(You Are) What You Love
by angellwings
Summary: One shot series based on songs from Taylor Swift's new album "Lover". From S1 until well past the S2 two part finale. [lyatt] [collection]
1. Devils Roll the Dice

**A/N: **So I decided to write a lyatt one shot for each track of Taylor Swift's new album "Lover". Yep, if you know me at all then that's probably inevitable. These one shots will be canon and take place from the end of S1 and continue past the S2 two part finale. Here's the first one. It's set during 116, after Wyatt leaves Lucy in the past with Flynn. It's a little short but I'm a bit rusty. Hopefully it's okay.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

Devils Roll the Dice

By angellwings

* * *

"Devils roll the dice,

Angels roll their eyes.

What doesn't kill me makes me want you more."

-Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

* * *

She should know better. Correction: she _does_ know better. Didn't she learn this lesson with Jonas already? Never give all you have to someone who won't take it. It's a waste of a perfectly good heart.

Although, this feeling growing steadily in her chest as the days fly by reaches far deeper than her feelings for Jonas ever did. This love has roots and they're digging their way through her entire body — coiling around every vital part of her. If she has to rip it out then it will take pieces of her with it.

But she can't stunt its growth. She's tried. Every time he's infuriated her she's held onto that feeling; intending to use it as kindling to burn up the roots. It never works. Somehow, the more hard headed he is, the more the affection spreads.

She's destined for disaster and she knows it. He can't move on as long as he lives with ghosts. He can't feel for her what she feels with him if he doesn't know how to let Jessica go.

So why does his dedication to his first love only make her want him more?

It makes no fucking sense.

But here she is. Here she's _been_ since that first night he looked up at her with that irritating grin. That grin was the beginning of her downfall. She's been in a slow descent into hell ever since.

_Except_ in the moments where he wraps his arms around her or encourages her. In _those_ moment hell feels a lot like heaven. That _moment_ in Chicago—or the warehouse just a few days ago. Any time he holds her as tightly as she holds him, she can't help but think _there_ is right where she's supposed to be.

That feeling is _wrong_. It has to be wrong. He was willing to give her up for Jessica. She can't be meant to be in a place where Wyatt doesn't want her.

Can she?

It's awfully hard to tell with the way he continually keeps her close. She really thought he was going to throw her over his shoulder earlier and _make_ _her _leave 1954 with him instead of Flynn. He took a part of her with him when he stepped into the Lifeboat without her and she couldn't have imagined the way he looked at her. He looked as though losing her would break him — as if she held his soul in her hands.

She was hesitant to let him go herself. Her mind spun with horrible scenarios. What if they changed things too much and when she got back he would no longer know her? Could she handle those repercussions? She didn't have time to fully consider that at the time. They had to move and they had to move quickly.

But her thoughts circle that same path now as the Mothership lands in 2017. The ride was blessedly smooth. She feels cheated that Flynn, of all people, gets the luxury tour through time while she's stuck with the economy package. She can't be too mad at him though. He kept her alive and gave her a burner phone with three numbers programmed in. His. Christopher's. And _Wyatt_'s.

Professionally speaking, she should call Christopher first. But maybe Rittenhouse still has her. Surely, she found a way out but maybe to stay on the safe side…

She should call Wyatt.

Or at least that's the reason she uses to ease her guilty conscience.

The phone is ringing as she walks, before she can think better of it.

He answers on the first ring.

"Lucy?"

He sounds preoccupied with worry.

"It's me. H—how did you know it was me?"

There's a sigh of relief on the other end. "I didn't. I just wanted it to be you."

He _wanted_ it to be? Does that imply what she thinks it does? His concern for her only intensifies what she felt while she watched that Lifeboat hatch close hours ago. How exactly is she supposed to keep herself from falling for him? He's not making this any easier for her.

He never does.

Silence overtakes the line. Neither knows how to continue. Wyatt clears his throat and winces audibly. Before he decides to fill the pause between them.

"How close are you to UCSF?" Wyatt asks.

The medical center? Not very. Flynn parked the Mothership in yet another abandoned warehouse. But as she's walking several blocks toward civilization, she can see a cab parked up ahead. She might still have some cash in her newly vintage purse from another century. She glances around to locate her surroundings.

"Twenty minutes," she answers. She doesn't tell him that it's only twenty minutes _if_ her driver is willing to break the sound barrier.

"You know the coffee shop a couple blocks over?"

"Martha & Brothers, yeah."

"That's where I'll be. We'll talk more then."

In person. Where there's less risk of being tracked or recorded. He doesn't have to say that's why, she just knows. When had this become her life?

"Okay," she answers as she starts to hang up.

"Just—hold on, wait."

Her reflexes have never been faster. The sound of his voice had her scrambling to press the phone back to her ear.

"You're okay, right?" He asks.

"I'm fine."

"Lucy." His voice is wavers the same way it had before they parted ways and yet it sounds admonishing. He's afraid she's not telling him the truth.

"Honestly, Wyatt. I'm _fine_."

"You better be," he replies softly. "Twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Understood."

And then he's gone. The line's dead. Lucy hails the cab and on the ride she borrows a pen. She writes down the number Flynn saved in the phone for himself, sets the phone back to factory settings, and leaves it on the backseat. When the car stops, she tosses the last of her cash at the driver and then barrels into the coffee shop.

It's only been a handful of hours but being separated from Wyatt in the middle of clandestine cults and national security threats has left her suffering from a strange sort of vertigo. She feels like she's free falling and he's the only thing that can stop her. Despite the knowledge that he doesn't return her feelings — can't return her feelings — he's become her tether. She's not sure when that happened. Wasn't even aware it had until he finally turned and walked away from her in 1954.

She releases a breath as she skids to a stop. He's there, hunkered down at a small round table for two. His head swivels as though he senses her and in an instant his anxious blue irises meet her brown ones. The air thickens and then disperses. She doesn't generally romanticize anything besides history, and maybe she's fooling herself, but the minute their eyes meet the world and the elements right themselves. The air pressure lessens, the temperature increases, and the fog she'd waded through to get to him vanishes.

They meet halfway. She's not entirely sure how she ended up with her feet several inches off the floor. She may have jumped into his arms. It's all a bit of a blur. All she knows is the solid feel of him wrapped around her. Strength, safety, solace.

Yet, conversely, anguish, danger, and weakness.

All the ingredients necessary for a love she shouldn't feel and man she never should have met.

His hand skates between her shoulder blades and his breath tickles the hairs on the back of her neck. "You're okay."

"_You're_ okay," she repeats as she turns her head and presses her cheek into his sturdy frame.

They stay just like that for several moments. For longer than they should. She should let go before her highly logical brain fails her. The longer she has him to herself, the more risk she runs of admitting the unthinkable. Once that admission escapes, she can never take it back. She can't put that on him. She won't put that on him. Not so close to his failed attempt to get Jessica back. If she's honest, she's hoping it'll go away.

End of mission, end of feelings.

Because it can't happen.

It's ill fated, ill timed, ill fitting.

Just..._ill_.

She _won't _admit it out loud.

But in the reassuring quiet of his breath mingling with hers she makes one allowance. She can't say it, but she can think it. She can will him to feel it flowing out of her — through her embrace and the soothing rhythm of her pulse.

A silent statement that he may not ever be ready to hear. Three little words she feels keenly but plans to lock away in the furthest recesses of her psyche. _I love you. _

The worst thing he's never heard.


	2. I Counted Days, I Counted Miles

**A/N: **Okay, Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince. Phew! Man. This song is pessimistic, sarcastic, but ends on a hopeful note. Upon listening to it and thinking of Timeless it reminded me of Lucy during 201. So, that's what I went with here. Let me tell you, I went deep into Lucy's POV while writing this. At one point, I was struggling to hold back tears. Crying while writing in a public place is probably not a good idea, right?

So...lots of angst ahead. Some dark thoughts. If you're someone who's sensitive to that then I will totally understand if you want to skip this one. It definitely explores Lucy hitting a very low point. (Though she does start to come back from it at the end, if that helps. Also, try not to think about what happens between Lucy and Wyatt just two episodes later. If you do that, then the ending may not be so hopeful. Sorry. [Insert Chrissy Tiegan wince-smile gif here])

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

I Counted Days, I Counted Miles

By angellwings

* * *

"My team is losing,

Battered and bruising.

I see the high fives,

Between the bad guys.

Leave with my head hung.

You are the only one,

Who seems to care.

American stories,

Burning before me.

I'm feeling helpless.

The damsels are depressed.

Boys will be boys, then,

Where are the wise men?

Darling, I'm scared."

-"Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" by Taylor Swift

* * *

She went from golden child to security risk in the span of five seconds. It's strange to think that the person she's worked her whole life to impress is now the enemy. Not just the enemy, her personal jailer — abuser. No other way to think of it.

Her mother tried to brainwash her. Confined her to a cement walled room with no windows or doors, reminded her that her friends were gone, confronted her with photos and news clippings of a burnt out hangar. Badgered her with failure after failure until she broke.

Once her spirit lay in shattered pieces on the ground, her accommodations improved along with the treatment. But her mother didn't know her very well. She didn't know all that Lucy had been through on her travels through time or the challenges she faced. She didn't know what Lucy knows now. She's stronger than she thinks she is and more resourceful than she ever thought possible. Thanks to a certain blue eyed soldier and a wise cracking engineer. Two people she thought she lost for good.

For their sakes, Lucy refused to let her mother win. It was all a game. She simply had to outplay her opponent. In this case, the mother who never thought her accomplishments were quite good enough.

Third in her class at UCLA? "It's a shame you couldn't crack that top spot, Lucy. Maybe if you had tried a little harder."

Published on her own, without her mother as a co-author? "You had a great premise, but you got carried away toward the middle. If I had been your editor I could have helped you, but I'm sure whoever you're working with tried their best."

Got a job with a well respected professor at a prestigious school? "Chicago, Lucy? Really? What have I done to deserve to be abandoned like this? I could have gotten you a job at Stanford. I wish you would reconsider."

Sure, her mother was different than this Carol, but not by much. When her mother's health started to decline she became more understanding, less demanding. It was as if she saw how unimportant it all was. Her timeline's Carol also had a true love in Henry. Lucy _knows_ what her parents felt for each other was real, even if Henry wasn't really her father. Henry dulled her mother's edges and always had — until he passed when Lucy was in high school. After that, Lucy and Amy were all Carol had. Amy got their mother's love and affection. Lucy became the vessel for Carol's legacy.

All of that to say, this Carol is less merciful. If she thought the mother she grew up with was judgmental and controlling...this new Carol is _worse_.

Through it all, Wyatt kept her going. He wouldn't have let her give in so she wasn't going to let him down. She was desperate, but not devoid of hope. If she could fake her compliance with the Rittenhouse agenda then maybe she could get shit done. Besides, she'd lost everything and now there was nothing holding her back from burning it all down with her still inside. If that was the only way then it wasn't as if anyone would miss her.

So, she built a plan. She built a plan with the intention of not surviving it. The sooner she ended Rittenhouse, the sooner she would find out what happens after death. Would Amy be there? Did people who ceased to exist still move on? Would she see Wyatt and Rufus? Would what she planned to do send her to hell or heaven? Did those places even exist or would everything just..._go dark_? She believed in a higher power controlling fate, but did she believe in anything beyond that? She'd had questions about it for as long as she could remember.

She counted the days until she could find her answers. Maybe Wyatt and Rufus would be waiting for her at the end of her countdown.

Those six weeks with Rittenhouse were the darkest of her life. Fake smiles, muffled sobs, memorizing sterilized doctrines and for the first time in her life cursing her exceptional memory. They wanted her dedication. Her entire being. But she couldn't give it.

As far as she was concerned her dedication died with Rufus and Wyatt.

She was ready to be done with this fight. With her life that would never be normal again. With the dreams she'd dared to hold in her heart about a future where she wasn't alone and cold. Maybe a future with a certain someone who had sandy hair and expressive eyes. Callused hands to match his callused heart. But under all that his touch was soft and his gaze was warm. For the first time it felt like someone, besides her sister, understood her.

Before the explosion, she admonished herself for her feelings. She should have known better. It was never meant to last. It had been ill-fated from the very beginning. Isn't that what she tried to tell herself as she fell deeper and deeper in love with Wyatt Logan? Why didn't she listen? She let him in and now he was gone. He was gone and he would never know that she…

She never let herself finish that thought. It was too tragic, even for her macabre state.

She kept counting the days and played the role she was given. The role of the hurt but well intentioned daughter of Carol Preston. Her mother excused her flippant attitude as dramatics and had no doubts she would eventually come around. She wouldn't but Carol didn't need to know that.

She had it all planned out. They were headed to the past. That's where she would strike. Their numbers were smaller. They underestimated her. It left Rittenhouse vulnerable. She just needed to keep her eyes open for the perfect moment. She wouldn't be deterred. She'd let them kill her before she'd back down.

That was the plan anyway. It probably would have worked too. There was just one problem…

Wyatt and Rufus weren't dead.

The frame of mind she'd forced herself to live in so she could make the hard decisions crumbled in front of her the second her eyes focused on _him_. Wyatt. Alive. In 1918. It was an echo of their reunion after DC.

The world and the elements righted themselves. Just like always.

"You're alive."

"_You're_ alive."

Despite herself those dreams she thought had died sprang to the forefront again. The roots that took hold of her when they first met stopped wilting and resumed growing. She'd been frozen — merely a husk of herself living in a sepia tinted facade. With one embrace, first with Wyatt and then Rufus too, color and life returned.

Her joy lasted only moments. Reality quickly crushed her again.

They were too late. She was already playing Rittenhouse's game. She couldn't stop now. They had to be stopped or else they could just as easily take it all away from her again. Her plan would have to go on. But maybe...maybe she didn't have to burn _with_ Rittenhouse. Not anymore. She avoided Wyatt's gaze as she enlisted their help. He would see her darkness if she did. She didn't want him to see what she'd become. A murdering, lying _victim_. That wasn't the Lucy she wanted him to know.

That Lucy would never forgive herself for stooping to the enemy's level.

For all her best efforts, he saw through her anyway.

"How were you gonna get home?" His voice caught over the words as if he knew her answer but feared it at the same time.

No use lying now. He'd know.

But she directed her answer to Rufus and looked down at the ground before daring to glance at Wyatt again. "I wasn't."

She let the weight of her admission linger between them. She wasn't sure how to move past it so she focused on the task at hand. There wasn't much time to discuss her state of mind anyway. As soon as the directions were out of her mouth, she ran. Partly because her mother was looking for her, but mostly…

Mostly she was running from Wyatt.

Now that he was alive, the depths she'd let her emotions sink to felt shameful. She wasn't certain what to do with them now. She was so sure of her path. She knew what she was doing was the only way. That was no longer the case. Her friends were alive. She'd had other options. She simply hadn't known it.

The internal struggle of her plan with her new circumstances caused her to hesitate when it came to killing Keynes. It led to her getting caught. It led to Emma pointing a gun at Marie Curie and subsequently Lucy when she jumped in front of it.

She no longer wanted to die, but she couldn't let Emma kill any innocents. Lucy had already killed one innocent today. There was no need to kill another.

Thankfully, neither she nor the Curies had to die.

Wyatt and Rufus stepped in. They leveraged Keynes for Lucy. And when that was done Lucy embarrassed herself by trying to sway her mother away from the enemy. Like her feelings for Wyatt, she should have known better.

Her mother was the last of her family. The last piece of Lucy's former life. Her hero and her burden. She always thought under all that bluster her mother loved her unconditionally. That Lucy was more important to her than the superficial.

God damn, was she ever wrong.

Her mother never loved Lucy the same way Lucy loved her. She was her second choice. She was always second. With everyone. With Jonas. With Stanford. And now her own mother.

She went from beloved daughter to threat in the time it took Emma to say, "You can't protect her anymore."

And now she stands in a sad dirty room, wearing borrowed sweats, staring at a cluttered and well used military issue cot. Her mother is gone. Her sister has been taken from her forever. And the world outside this decrepit bunker probably thinks she's dead. Not that she could leave if they didn't. She has no one and nothing, except the locket around her neck.

She doesn't hear him approach but she's not surprised by his deep timbre ringing behind her. She knew he would find her eventually.

"It's not exactly what you were expecting to come home to, huh?"

Home? Is that what this is? They certainly seem to have been living here a while, at least. She's not in the mood for flowery platitudes or pretending she's anything short of devastated so she answers him with the ruthless truth.

"I wasn't _expecting_ to come home at all."

She turns, thinking she'll find shock staring back at her, but she doesn't. He merely gives her a sweeping look of support before asking expectantly, "You okay?"

Easy answer is no. But that's too simple, isn't it? "Okay" is subjective. Being "not okay" could mean she still smells like the stench of a World War battlefield. Being "not okay" could mean she feels mildly inconvenienced by not having any of her own clothes. Being "not okay" is small. What she feels is big.

All encompassing.

The only thing that will truly answer his question is context.

And because she has no defenses against Wyatt Logan — never has — she empties her guilty conscience. She lays her most shameful deed at his feet. She admits her darkness. She'd been kidding herself in that artillery tent. She could never hide from him. Even when she's at her worst. Not without causing herself a great deal more pain. Hiding from him hurts. It would be like having a migraine and refusing to take anything to ease it. He's helped her over the hump in the past. She knows he can do it again. Keeping her pain from him would only make her suffering worse.

"I just keep wondering if I could have stopped them if you hadn't have come."

There. That sums it up in a nutshell. She doubted her plan. If she hadn't done that then this all would be over by now. Wouldn't it?

"Emma would've killed you."

She'd had that thought too and despite her humiliating plea to her mother earlier she tells him the lie she used to comfort herself while in captivity. "My mother wouldn't have let her do that."

"You sure about that?"

As per usual, he doesn't sugar coat it. He doesn't let her live in her delusion. In order to protect herself, she has to see the true danger in her situation. That's what he's always been good for, even in the beginning when they barely got along. He offers clarity. He's arming her to protect herself from those who would hurt her.

The truth she hid from even herself spills out in reply. "No."

And if that's true. Then that means…

"I've lost everything."

The recycled air in the bunker stills and the various machine-like sounds fade away as tears cloud her vision and her shoulders begin to shake. But for the first time in weeks, she's not left alone to cry or forced to bury her face in a pillow and hide it. He's there. He moves from Jiya's cot to hers to pull her into his chest without hesitation. His cheek rests against her forehead causing her hair to pull in his facial hair, but having someone to hold her through her tears feels too good to mind the tugging sensation in her scalp.

She feels an almost imperceptible shake of his head just before his voice, gravelly with emotion, joins the sound of her tears.

"You haven't lost me."

His arms tighten protectively around her, holding her as closely as he can. It's the safest she's felt since she walked away from him at Mason Industries all those weeks ago. Since the night that changed everything. She'd been so optimistic that night. Wyatt implied he wanted to keep seeing her. She would be getting her sister back in a few short hours. Rittenhouse was gone. She had felt like there was nothing the two of them couldn't tackle. No danger they couldn't face.

Her hand travels up to find his jaw as that hope slowly resurfaces. She'd given up because she thought she lost him, but he's not gone. He's here. She has the feel of his prickly stubble against her palm to prove it. They're together. She may have lost the things and the people she used to claim as her own, but he's still here. He hasn't left her or chosen something else over her. He's been steadfast and true.

He'd come looking for her, hadn't he? He'd followed her to 1918. Damn the consequences. He'd traded foiling Rittenhouse plan for _her life_. He chose her. He _found_ her. She'd been lost and he'd brought her home. Not to this dank bunker. Not to an empty uncomfortable cot. No, he'd brought her home _to him_.

Maybe things aren't as desolate as they seem. They'd gotten a leg up on Rittenhouse once before. _Together_. They can do it again. They can fight and _they can win_. She can rebuild and refocus. It won't be easy to make something of the rusted remains of her old life. But it's far from impossible.

She still has Wyatt, after all.

She hasn't lost _everything_.

She feels the pull of his lips to hers and won't allow herself to overthink it. The last six weeks, she's watched every move she made. Being careful every step of the way. Well, to hell with careful. For the moment anyway.

She'll save careful for tomorrow. Right now, she'll imagine running away with Wyatt. Leaving all of this behind. Right now, she'll imagine it's possible for the two of them to be on the same page. _Right now_, the world outside the bunker doesn't exist.

She spent six weeks counting the days and the miles until she could see him again, and now they're finally _here_. It's not as tragic as she imagined it to be and that's enough of a victory.

_For now._


	3. The Long Way Home

**A/N: **Another short one. I also don't know why all of these are turning out to be Lucy POV but okay. Lol. So for "Death By A Thousand Cuts" it was clearly Lyatt after Jessica came back, but I feel like I've written that to death so I wanted a different angle on it. Then I remembered Taylor was inspired to write the song by the movie "Someone Great" on Netflix. Which really focused on unresolved feelings and female friendships. From that came _this_. Hopefully you like it!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - the beginning is set during 203 and the end is set just after 205.

* * *

The Long Way Home

By angellwings

* * *

"Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts.

Flashbacks waking me up.

I get drunk, but it's not enough,

'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby.

I look through the windows of this love,

Even though we boarded them up.

Chandelier's still flickering here,

'Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not.

It's death by a thousand cuts."

-"Death By A Thousand Cuts" by Taylor Swift

* * *

Lucy feels...warm. She's not quite sure where she is. Her eyes are still closed. She's not looking at her surroundings, but it doesn't _feel_ like the cold, mildewed bunker. The air is warm, the sheets are soft, the mattress is firm — and big. One subtle extension of her bare leg bumps a sturdier leg and another suspicion is confirmed.

She's not alone in this large luxurious bed. And just like that…

She remembers.

_Wyatt_.

One pretend kiss, two almost kisses, and two half confessions finally led them _here_. Naked, in bed, together. After his short but lovely admission last night, it seems her insistence that they couldn't be on the same page was wrong. They are very much on the same page.

So much the same page that it turned into the same bed. She's not sure what time she's woken up to, but there's no sunlight peeking through the curtains. At the very least, it's still early. Too early to crash Rittenhouse's meeting they'd learned about last night.

Chills rise on her sated body as the air cools and seeps under the sheets. There's still a sheen of sweat all over her from their...activities. She's going to need something more than the sheets to keep her warm. She has a slip around here somewhere. That will have to do.

She carefully pulls the covers back so as not to wake Wyatt, but he's a light sleeper and no amount of careful could keep him at bay.

His arms wrap around her waist as she sits on the edge of the bed.

"Where exactly do you think you're going, _ma'am_?"

She turns with the indignant glare that's expected when he uses that title on her. "We're still doing the 'ma'am' thing?"

Even in the darkness she can see his smirk.

"What? You think that goes away just because we slept together? No such luck. We're too far into this bit now to stop."

"And if it's the sex or the bit? What'll you do then?" She asks as she settles back into the bed, laying so her face lines up with his.

"You'd never give me that ultimatum," he says with a confident chuckle. "You _like it _when I call you 'Ma'am'. No sense denying it now."

Damn him and his ability to read her so well. She shakes her head but her smile never moves. "You think you know me."

"Not as well as I should," he admits. "But tonight has definitely been, shall we say, educational."

He leans forward and gently bites the ridge of her collar bone. The resulting way she gasps and wraps her arms around him causes another one of his confident chuckles to fill the air.

"See? That's new," he teases.

She runs her hands through his hair and over his shoulders as he does it again. Her body's heating itself from the inside out and feeling cold is no longer an issue. "Learn anything else tonight?"

He grins against her shoulder and the feeling of it is _heaven_. "You giving me a pop quiz, Professor?"

"Think you can ace it, Soldier?"

"Oh, with flying colors. No doubt."

"_Prove it_."

"Happy to."

The minute his lips find the sensitive spot just below her ear she knows he's right. He is definitely scoring toward the top of the curve on this quiz.

As his kisses trail further downward, she remembers her slip. _Oh, well. _She can always find it later. It's not like there's any rush to be clothed, she thinks with a wicked grin.

Not when he's touching her like _this_.

* * *

Her eyes snap open and even in the blackness the difference is _palpable_. Thin mattress, scratchy bed linens, the faintest hint of stagnant moisture in the air.

_The loneliness._

She isn't in 1941 anymore. Never would be again. Tears spill from her lashes and a hand flies up to cover her mouth before a sob escapes. Jiya is sleeping across the room and she'll be damned if she wakes her up with her pathetic crying.

Especially not if she's crying over a _married_ man.

Once again: ill fated, ill timed.

Yet strangely, she knows now they aren't an ill _fit_. And maybe that's the worst part.

They fit so wonderfully well together. It was so perfect that she _aches_ for him.

But that's over. _Done_. It _has_ to be done.

The metal door to their room begins to open with a groan. Lucy scrambles to roll onto her back and hides her face in a pillow. The last time someone came into their room it was Wyatt on her first night in the bunker. She let him think she was sleeping then and if it's him again she plans to do the same.

"Lucy."

It _is_ him. Why is he doing this to her? She told him what he wanted to hear outside the bathroom earlier. Couldn't that be enough?

"Lucy, are you awake?" He whispers again.

No. Go away.

She bites her bottom lip to keep her crying silent. Why isn't he with _her_? _His wife._ Lucy just wants to be left alone.

"I'm pretty sure she's all but dead to the world, Wyatt. She had a rough day. You of all people should know that."

_Bless you, Jiya._

"I...I just—"

"You just what? It's late. You should go back to bed."

He blows out a frustrated breath. "If only I could. I talked to her earlier and something didn't...it didn't…"

"She's sleeping, Wyatt," Jiya says sternly. "We've talked about how little she does that lately. You know she needs the rest, especially after the infection and the—"

"Fever. Please don't remind me. You already sent me away once because of it. _I know_ I'm not what she needs right now." He pauses and his voice cracks over the last sentence. "But, Jiya, I—I don't know what to do."

"It's not up to Lucy to figure that out for you. Decide for yourself, Logan. Leave her alone until you do," Jiya answers. Her words are firm but her tone is sympathetic. "Let her rest."

After a lingering tense silence, his footsteps retreat and the metal door groans again. This time to close.

As soon as it does, her sobs explode. She can't stop them. Trying only makes them sound _more_ frantic. She's trembling and sputtering, curled into the fetal position as she faces the wall. He was _right there_ and she couldn't have him. It was _torture_. Why did she have to come so close only to have it ripped out of her hands?

She feels a small hand on her shoulder and jumps.

"It's okay," Jiya says soothingly. "It's just me."

She nods because her throat is too clogged for words. She's simultaneously relieved and heartbroken. Last time she cried like this it was _Wyatt_ comforting her. Reminding her he was still there. This time he _can't_ be.

"It's not fair, Jiya," she croaks out. "It's. _Not. Fair_."

"I know," Her friend replies, tears evident in her words.

Jiya crawls into the cot and spoons against her. She bands her arms around Lucy and rests her head against her back.

"It's okay to cry over it, you know? You _lost_, Lucy. You lost a lot. It's more than just Wyatt. If anyone deserves to cry, it's you."

Lucy's hands find Jiya's as they rest on her abdomen. She clutches them like a lifeline. She forgets sometimes that it's more than just her and Wyatt and the ghost of his wife in this bunker. She has other friends beyond him. She has Rufus. She has Christopher. She has _Jiya_.

Jiya, who has reminded her of Amy since the first day they spoke. If Amy were still here, she and Jiya would be perfect companions. She's always thought that. If there was ever a time she needed a sister, it's now.

So, she lets go. She cries harder than she's ever cried. Not even at Rittenhouse were her tears this relentless. Jiya cries along with her. She can feel the younger woman's tears on the back of her shirt.

"You know," Jiya says after their tears begin to slow. "You and I probably wouldn't have these problems if we'd just fallen in love with _each other_."

In spite of her heartbreak, Lucy laughs.

"Damn our vaginas for wanting a penis."

"_Jiya_," Lucy says through a soggy laugh.

"What? It's true! Would you be mad at me because of visions I can't control?"

"No," she answers with a grin.

"And I don't have a dead or not-dead ex-wife. So see? We're _made_ for each other."

"Wow, we really missed the boat, huh?" Lucy asks, playing along.

"Totally." Jiya takes a moment and the room feels somber as she does. "For what it's worth, I don't think this is any easier for him."

"Not right now, but it will be eventually. He has Jessica back. He'll forget about me soon enough," Lucy declares darkly.

"I don't think so. But Wyatt will have to prove that to you himself. I can't do anything about that. What I can do is be here for you. You'll get through it. I'll help you."

"I feel like I'm being shredded to pieces," Lucy admits, swallowing thickly. It's the truth. The pain slices and burns. Like paper cuts all over her body. "Everything I love is being taken away from me. One by one. Losing Wyatt feels like...the last straw. I can't take much more."

"You can," Jiya promises. "You're stronger than you think you are. I've watched you face down bigger problems than this. You got this, Lucy Preston, and if you ever feel like you don't then remind yourself of all you've overcome so far. A little heartbreak is _nothing_ compared to all of that."

Jiya's right. They have bigger problems than her..._affair_ with Wyatt. Lucy can focus on those. She can deal with _that_ and let Wyatt sort himself out. It'll hurt like hell but life goes on. Rittenhouse won't stop just because she's been hurt. She'll see him every day. Relive the one day they had together every night. But everything else has to be business as usual.

He wanted Jessica and now he has her. She and Wyatt will _both_ have to accept that. She can shut him out and shut her heart off. At least to him. She'll have to if she wants to survive this.

She knew it was doomed from the start. Nothing's changed. She gave him every part of her and it wasn't enough. She's never enough. It's time she stopped trying to be. She has too much on her plate, as it is. She should have listened to herself when they first met and kept her distance. Now those roots have to be cut out and it's every bit as painful as she knew it would be.

She loves him, but it's not meant to be.

This is how their story ends.

But it's fine. She'll be alright.

It's just a thousand cuts.


	4. Boxing with No Gloves

**A/N: **OOF. This one was HARD, you guys. I mean just painful. I had to relieve 206-210. Oh man, watching Wyatt descend into those depths is NEVER fun but then having to dig into his POV through it all? EVEN WORSE. OUCH.

Hopefully I did him justice and you guys like this.

I swear we're getting closer to the happy stuff. I promise.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

Boxing with No Gloves

By angellwings

* * *

"Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves,

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us.

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It's on your face, and I'm to blame,

I need to say, hey,

It's all me in my head.

I'm the one who burned us down,

But it's not what I meant.

Sorry that I hurt you.

I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you,

I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you.

I need to say, hey,

It's all me, just don't go,

Meet me in the afterglow."

-"Afterglow" by Taylor Swift

* * *

Wyatt may not be a historian or an anthropologist but he is a sports enthusiast. His Grandpa Sherwin loved boxing. Wyatt was reluctant to embrace it but when it became clear that he was born a natural bullheaded brawler he decided it was in his best interest to learn. In the middle of his education, he ran across something interesting.

Boxing gloves weren't always used to protect a fighter's hands. Roman Gladiators used what they called a cestus or _battle glove_ — leather strips filled with iron plates or sometimes fitted with spikes or blades. Like a brass knuckle for your whole hand. The brutality of the cestus eventually caused the Romans to ban boxing.

He's never been hit with a cestus, but he can imagine it. He can imagine it feels a lot like he does now with Lucy's hurt, anger, and desperation aimed right at him on a public street in 1919.

"_Little late for that_," she'd said.

He'd told her he wasn't going to let her get hurt and she'd said, "_Little late for that."_

Little late for that?

Everything in him tenses and runs cold all at once. He feels fear. Unadulterated fear. She means exactly what he thinks she means. He simultaneously knows it and dreads it. But ever the glutton for punishment he can't stop himself from digging further.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Dumb fuck, you know exactly what it means, he berates himself.

"Okay, look, Wyatt, I have tried really hard to separate whatever's going on between us from the work that we have to do, but you are _not_ making it easy."

Easy? _Easy?_ She thinks—

He's been tortured by guilt every night. Worry weighs on him over every decision he's ever made, _especially _when it comes to Lucy Preston. He worries he's damaged her far greater than she ever deserves. He worries he's made the biggest mistake of his life. He worries he'll always wonder what would have happened had Jessica not come back. He can't focus on fixing his marriage for _worrying_ about Lucy. So, _easy_? Not one god damn bit of this has been _easy_.

"You think this has been easy for me?"

He sounds like an ass and he knows it, but how does she not see how gutted he's been over this whole fucked up situation?

"You got the love of your life back, Wyatt, and I got the rug pulled out from under me _again_, so I would really appreciate it if you would stop acting like _you were the one_ who got screwed."

There it is again. _The cestus._ The defeat and heartbreak in her eyes feels like leather and iron and spikes embedding in his skin. "I'm—"

"I have a speech to deliver."

The frustrated huff that leaves him is unavoidable. He has no idea what he was going to say before she interrupted him. Whatever it was wouldn't have been enough. He doesn't have a leg to stand on. She's fighting him with the cestus and he's standing in front of her with bare knuckles. Nothing he could say would _ever_ be enough. He can't think of a way to fix this. There's no solution that will appease everyone.

Jessica didn't ask to come back. She certainly didn't ask to come back to a man who loves someone else. She didn't do anything wrong. But neither did _Lucy_. Lucy, who has already lost more than one person ever should. The same Lucy he comforted after her mother chose Rittenhouse over her. He told her she hadn't lost him. He promised. But he thought…

He thought Jessica was gone for good. He made his peace with that. He was moving on and everything was going so well. In fact, better than well...things with Lucy were damn near perfect. For one day all was right in his world and he felt as if he were exactly where he was meant to be. For the first time in maybe his whole life, he felt like he was..._home_. Even in a dank, disgusting, Cold War era bunker, he felt at home.

_Because of Lucy._

And then old obligations came along and tore his newfound sense of comfort to pieces. He spent so long mourning Jessica. He jeopardized everything to get her back, over and over again. How could he let her go after all of that? It was his fault she died in the first place. Didn't he _owe her_ a chance to have him at his best? She'd seen him at his worst. He couldn't leave it like that. He had to make it up to her. To show her that he wasn't the same fuck up he used to be.

But why did not fucking it up with Jessica have to mean fucking it up ten times worse with Lucy?

And _why_ did it take an emotional explosion under a significant amount of stress to get Lucy to tell him how she honestly feels? If she feels like the rug was pulled out from under her then why couldn't she have told him that on the first god damn phone call?

(Another mistake he made as part of his idiotic impulsiveness. He should have talked to Lucy before he left but he was convinced it was a hoax. How could it have been true? What would be the point of upsetting her if it was just Rittenhouse trying to trap him? Only when it turned out to be real did he see the glaring holes in his logic. Once again, too little too late.)

Or why couldn't she have told him after he tried to talk to her last week? Or when they talked after rescuing Kennedy? He doesn't expect Lucy to try and break up his marriage. He knows her better than that. But aren't they important enough to each other to be honest? A part of him wishes she'd told him how hurt she was on that first phone call. At least then he'd know if she even wanted him to fight for her. If she wanted to fight for _him_.

Because 1941 felt _life changing_ to him. Honestly, it did.

But had it been that for her? If she isn't willing to fight for him then what choice does he have? He's _married_ to Jessica. Jessica still loves him and has agreed to work on their marriage. She's _fighting_ for him. For both of them. If Lucy doesn't want him then why shouldn't he fix his marriage?

But then can his marriage really work if his heart's just not in it? Is that even fair to Jessica? Or himself, for that matter?

Every thought swings him back into a circle of confusion and doubt. Nothing makes sense. Up is down, forward is back, fact is fiction. He's adrift in a stormy sea and grasping at anything that floats to keep his head above water. The problem is, every item he grabs takes him further and further away from Lucy and he's not entirely certain that's the right direction. His head tells him it's right, his heart disagrees.

Meanwhile, his indecision is taking even more of a toll based on Lucy's outburst a moment ago. He needs to get his shit together. He needs to stop hurting the people he loves. He needs to man the fuck up and make a god damn choice.

Everyone thinks so. Jiya. Christopher. Flynn. Rufus has understandably stayed neutral but Wyatt knows he'd agree. Either he stays in the ring with Lucy or he taps out and lets her move on. His selfish need to keep her close is hurting her. _Breaking her_.

It has to stop.

Or else the cestus that is her heartbreak is going to kill him.

Not that it isn't already.

They make it through the mission because of her. She inspires Grace to pick up the cause where Alice left off. He stands on the sidelines and watches in amazement. She's never understood her own power. How truly _impressive_ she is. She invalidates her own contributions and he cannot stand by and let that happen. No matter what's going on with them, Lucy Preston is a force of nature and he's fortunate to be allowed anywhere near her. Whether they're together or not, that opinion will always be a constant.

She's a sun with her own orbit and he can't pull away.

There's not much time to clear the air during the mission but he tries as best he can. He offers support and takes careful measure to not hinder her any further. When they get back he tries to usher Jessica out of her line of sight as quickly as possible. Why Jessica suddenly decides she enjoys public displays of affection, he isn't sure. Unless she's trying to hurt Lucy. Jessica isn't stupid. She knows something happened between him and Lucy. She's shown slips of insecurity in the past. It's disappointing but not really surprising.

But this isn't over. He and Lucy still need to talk.

He gives them both time to shower and change — to resemble normal people instead of worn and weary time travelers. As much as they can anyway. When he finds her later, she has her back facing an open laptop. The page displays information on Grace Humiston. It all seems positive to him. But his job is the present, not the past. Of course Lucy sees things differently.

"Alice isn't even a footnote. She's gone, disappeared. Everything that she sacrificed, all of her accomplishments. Like she never even existed, and I'm the only one that's going to remember her."

Her voice sounds hopeless with an underlying layer of resentment. Despite their victory, she's in a low place. He moves closer as she talks. She's being so upfront with him that he falls into the old familiar trap. Their connection. The fact that he's never liked to see her upset supersedes anything about their current circumstances and all he wants in that particular moment is to help her. To offer her some sort of reassurance. Just as he always has. On some level he knows he shouldn't, but he's already established that he's an impulsive fuck up, so he storms right past that level to his very instinctual need to be there _for Lucy._

"You're not the only one." His hands graze her shoulders for a fraction of a second before she's up and across the room.

The quickness of the movement combined with words "Wyatt, don't" hit him like another punch from the cestus. He can't do anything right with her anymore. He can't shut off his feelings for her. He can't do the one thing she's asking him to do. _Back off_. They're not anything anymore and he's still managing to fail her.

Typical Wyatt Logan.

So, instead he goes for honesty. If he doesn't do this now, he may not have another moment. It's clear she's running from him and he can understand why but the look on her face earlier that day made it clear that he hasn't told her _enough_ about what he's thinking or feeling. She needs to know.

"Lucy, I still care about you."

Understatement, but given the ring on his left hand it'll have to do. He may be a reckless hothead but even he knows better than to say those three little words right now.

"I...I can't make that disappear."

"Wyatt, you are married to a woman that you love. You are _happily_ married. I have to accept that, and you have to accept that."

It's on the tip of his tongue to point out that his marriage can't be too happy if Jessica was about to serve him divorce papers, but that wouldn't really help his case right now, would it? Besides, his primary concern should be respecting Lucy's feelings. He's been selfish long enough. If she wants him to fight for her then she'll give him some kind of sign, right? She'll leave him with some shred of hope that she hasn't shut the door on 1941 forever.

"We can't keep living in the past."

He knows he shouldn't but he grins a little at that. All they do is live in the past. They have no lives in the present. Not in this hell hole. He can tell by the pause that she sees the irony in her words too. But fine, if she wants to move on then he can..._deal_ with that. He'll have to. And really who she moves on with is none of his business. He knows that.

Except _Flynn_. The man who came so close to killing them numerous times last year. She can't possibly choose _him_. If Wyatt doesn't deserve her then Flynn sure as hell doesn't either. He's unpredictable and volatile. He'll put her in greater danger than time travel ever has.

"Okay, but _Flynn, _though? I mean, seriously?"

He's skating on thin ice. She told him in no uncertain terms that he had no right to ask about it or offer any sort of opinion. Thankfully, she decides to be merciful when she really shouldn't.

"Wyatt, nothing happened. We talked. That's all."

The elation he feels isn't normal. He didn't win anything. He's still losing her, but knowing he's not losing her _to Flynn_ feels like a victory, anyway. He tries and fails to hide it with a brusque, "cool."

The look she gives him is more playful than angry for the first time since he walked out on her to find his dead wife. It shouldn't give him hope, but it does. That's his Lucy. The Lucy he knows by heart.

"I mean, _thank God._"

She laughs lightly. It doesn't sound bitter. That's another tally in the hope column.

"What? I think it's safe to say that literally no one has experienced what I'm going through—" except maybe Lucy, you asshole, what are you saying? "—what we're going through right now."

"I know that," she replies. He feels a turn coming. A turn that's going to erase those two fragile tallies of hope. "But you getting a second chance with Jessica, that is the closest thing to a miracle I have ever seen, and there is _no way_ I'm getting in the middle of that. That is not who I am."

Yep, there it is. Not the sign he wanted, but definitely a sign. That's it. That's his choice made for him. She doesn't want him to choose her. She doesn't want him to make a choice at all. It's a foregone conclusion to her that he should be with Jessica. Getting Jessica back is a _miracle_.

Which confirms his thoughts earlier that he owes it to Jessica to prove he's not the awful husband she knew. She deserves to see the person he always had the potential to be. The person he's grown into…

Because of Lucy. Which also hardly seems fair. Lucy makes him better so why does he have to give her up. He's trapped in that circle again. His entire body aches from the stress. Lucy saved him. She's the reason he's not that bitter drunk asshole he was before the first mission. Without her, he wouldn't want to know where he'd be right now.

Which probably means, she's too good. Too good for him. For his life. For the accidentally cruel way he's treated her. Too fucking good to be saddled with his battered heart.

"For what it's worth," he says. "I'm glad you are who you are."

She looks away from him with glassy eyes. Deflecting praise as usual. "Well, I'm no Alice Paul so—"

"No, you're Lucy Preston. That's pretty damn good."

Soldier. Historian. Activist. Light in the darkness.

_Pretty damn good_ doesn't cut it. She's so much more than that, but he's never been good at words. He trusts her to know him well enough to catch his implied meaning. The mood shifts. He feels acceptance and sadness, but somewhere in all of it is still a kernel of hope that she might change her mind. That there's some small amount of wiggle room.

So he asks, "So where does that leave us?"

Her answer is friendly but still the final nail in the coffin.

"Same place as always. Kicking ass and saving the world."

Even as she says it, he can tell it's not enough. Not enough for her or for him. But he can't put her in a position she doesn't want to be in. If she doesn't want to be in the middle of his marriage then he's damn sure not gonna put her there. So it may not be enough, but it will have to do. He can't be _completely_ without her. He'll settle for whatever piece she decides to give him.

"Yeah," is his lame reply.

The conversation's over, the door is closed.

He burnt them down without even trying.

Story of his life, right?

The days go on and the decision feels final. For the most part. Some insane part of him still thinks..._someday_. But that's a pipe dream. He's hurt her too badly. Made too many mistakes. His only hope now is that it'll all be worth it. That he can repair his broken relationship with Jessica and revive what they had in the early days. He can't have lost Lucy for nothing.

That thought almost works. Jessica announces she's pregnant and it feels like that will make all the pain worth it. For maybe a minute. Then he finds out she might be Rittenhouse. Now all the sense he'd applied to his heartbreak falls apart. It can't be true. Because if it's true then he truly has made all the wrong calls.

All.

_The wrong._

Calls.

The conflict puts him and Lucy right back in the boxing ring.

Only this time he's wearing the cestus and try as he might he can't get it off.

He sees himself hurling the punches.

"She's pregnant."

"You throw her out, I go too."

Both said carelessly in the heat of a defensive argument with Christopher. While Lucy was sitting _to his left _at the mess hall tables. What the fuck is wrong with him?

But it doesn't stop there.

"What do you want me to say, Lucy? That my wife is a liar?"

"You and Flynn? Of course."

He's not the only one throwing punches, though. She does a good job of lobbing them back in his face.

"You and Rufus are a better team."

"I've got it, Wyatt."

He's lost Lucy, he's losing Jessica. Just when everything was starting to make sense it's all a shambles again. He's not hiding it well. He's taking it out on Lucy and he hates himself for it. She hasn't done anything wrong. He trapped himself by making saving Jessica his top priority for so many years. He made it so important that the woman he loves won't 'stand in the way' of him and his 'true love'. Only, at this point, the whole thing is a lie. He's fooling himself by denying Jessica is Rittenhouse. Deep down he knows it.

He's given up everything that mattered for Jessica and in the end it's all going to be a waste of god damn time. He holds out preposterous hope that this is all some misunderstanding or that Jessica's being manipulated — maybe blackmailed. If she is Rittenhouse, she could be Rittenhouse against her will. Like the man he interrogated in 1981. That has to be it.

_Has to be_.

He's ready for another round with Lucy when he passes her in the hall after the mission's successful conclusion. Their exchange is curt and he's purposefully abrupt, but to his surprise she doesn't punch back.

She throws down her gloves and steps out of the ring by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for an embrace so powerful that he nearly forgets himself and what he's done to her. If she'd held him a moment longer, he would have kissed her. He knows then and there that all his talk of leaving the bunker with Jessica was just bluster. Bark with no bite.

He can't leave Lucy. He can't leave Rufus. They're his team.

One hug from Lucy and his common sense returns.

Christopher's right, albeit a week late, Jessica is a security risk. She has to go. At least until they figure out why Rittenhouse has been watching her. Maybe it is blackmail. Or a huge misunderstanding. Maybe she's an unwitting accomplice in all of it. Whatever it is, she can't be around his team until they figure it out.

Lucy Preston spoke calm to his raging storm and barely lifted a finger. He's reminded once again that _pretty damn good_ doesn't come close to describing Lucy. She's infinitely more than that. _Infinitely better _than all of them.

Yet _somehow_ he's not done hurting her just yet. Not done hurting his entire team. Because he wakes up to find Jessica's side of the bed empty and the whirring of the Lifeboat with Jiya and Jessica inside.

The pain of his body slamming against the concrete is no where near punishment enough. He has to see Lucy's face as she finds out he suspected Jessica might be Rittenhouse. He has to listen to Flynn's snark about the wife he gave up his enitre life to have back. He has to listen to the sickening crack of his elbow to Lucy's face after she catches an accidental hit.

_His _elbow. _Her_ face.

This is not what he wanted. He didn't mean for any of this to happen.

Jiya's gone. Rufus feels betrayed. Lucy is…

God, _Lucy_.

This whole time she's been a saint. She supported him even when it broke her. She defended Jessica to Christopher. She defend _him_ and he never once deserved it. She's better off without him. All he does is break her. Over and over again. He sees it every time she looks at him. All he wants to do is scream at her to hate him. This is all on him. She should leave him to suffer the consequences and save herself.

But she doesn't. None of them do.

They march into battle and they lose.

He loses Jessica. And they _all_ lose Rufus.

Jessica wasn't blackmailed or unwitting. She was purposeful in her intent to tear his team apart. She succeeded. They step out of the Lifeboat with Jiya and _without_ Rufus. Bloody and beaten.

Lucy's swollen and cut up face is a glaring reminder of his failures. He forces himself to look at her — to memorize it.

He did this.

This is all his fault. He has to fix it.

With Christopher. With Jiya. And especially with _Lucy_.

This may end with him all alone but he won't let them doubt how much he regrets this path he set them on. She may never want to set eyes on him again but he'll apologize anyway. He loves her and he ruined them. He won't let Lucy go another moment without seeing how deeply he regrets what he did to her.

Rufus was right. He should have admitted it a long time ago. He should have showed her how much she meant to him when he had the chance. Screw what his head wanted him to do. He should have followed his heart. He should have picked Lucy. Not just because Jessica turned on him but because Lucy Preston is the one person his heart truly can beat without.

He _needs_ her.

_Clearly_, just look at what a fuck up he is without her.

They're all sitting in the afterglow of the devastation _he caused_. He'll put out the fires and clean up the mess. Hopefully in the process he can show Lucy that she truly did nothing wrong. He abandoned her and she never deserved that. Like the accidental elbow he threw in her face, she was collateral damage. Jessica targeted him and she got caught in the crossfire.

He tells her the words the first time they're alone after losing Rufus. He knows she'll never say them back. He knows she likely won't stay by his side. But he'll fight for her anyway. If only to show her that her love wasn't one sided. That she was never far from his thoughts throughout all of it. He may lose.

But, let's be honest, he deserves it.

Nothing's changed. He still wants Lucy as badly as he did in 1941. Nothing would make him happier than to hear those three words from her. To hear her say, even after all the shit he put her through, that she loves him would be a miracle. The _true_ miracle. (She was wrong. Jessica was never his miracle. His miracle always was and will be Lucy Preston.)

As they sit in the silent echo of those three little words she can't possibly return, he allows himself to fantasize about the words she'll never say. That he lost his mind but she still wants him. That they'll be fine. That it's not his fault (she'd be lying but he'd let her). The he's in her heart despite her best efforts to cut him out.

He doesn't stand a chance with her. He never did. The hope won't be snuffed out, though. The light won't dim. It's foolhardy to foster the glow.

But he'll do it anyway.

Because a while back, before things went to hell, she labeled him a reckless hothead and, after all, isn't that what reckless hotheads do? Isn't that what _he_ does?

He charges in, head first, knowing he'll lose.

He boxes with no gloves.

He takes the hits from the cestus.

In the end, the iron and leather, the spikes and blades, can pound on him all they want. He'll take the punishment. It'll all be worth it.

For Rufus. For his team— No, not his team.

His _family_.

And most important of all…

_For Lucy._


	5. Who Could Stay? (You Could Stay)

**A/N: **This is a long one, guys. And it's taking me a long time to get it finished. The prior one shots I was able to hit on specific scenes in certain episodes but for this one it was hard to just pick certain scenes so I had to go through the entire two hour finale. Lucy's emotions unfold in such a deliberate way that I couldn't bear to skip any big chunks of these two episodes. Hence, long one shot.

Also hence, frustrated fanfic author.

Hopefully this turned out okay and you're not bored by redundancies. I really tried to make it interesting. Not sure I succeeded.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - we are so close to getting out of any episodes scenes. SO CLOSE. MY FREEDOM IS APPROACHING. Also I apologize for any typos. I read this through so many times that I know I've gone blind to them. :/

* * *

Who Could Stay? (You Could Stay)

By angellwings

* * *

"Combat,

I'm ready for combat.

I say I don't want that,

What if I do?

Cause cruelty,

Wins in the movies.

I got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you.

Easy they come, easy they go,

I jump from the train,

I ride off alone.

I never grow up,

It's getting so old.

Help me hold on to you."

-"The Archer" by Taylor Swift

* * *

"Well, what are you waitin' on?" Some version of Wyatt asks from the hatch of a foreign yet familiar Lifeboat.

This Wyatt's eyes never stop on hers. They float over her as if he doesn't really want to see her. They never linger on his Lucy either. She can't blame him. _She_ hardly wants to look at her other self.

"You guys want to get Rufus back or what?" Her altered reflection asks expectantly.

How did she become _that_? Hard edged, combat ready. Unaffected. _Cold_. There's clearly no love lost between herself and Wyatt in whatever world they come from.

"That's…" She can't quite bring herself to finish the sentence but she shouldn't have worried. Wyatt picks up right where she left off.

Like he somehow _always_ does.

"Us," he finishes for her, with just as much shock and awe as she feels.

Mason states what they're all thinking. This isn't possible. They all know it isn't possible. But obviously what they know is wrong because some dystopian fiction version of herself is clearly sharing her air.

"Where are you from?" Wyatt asks.

"_When_ are you from?" Lucy corrects.

"2023."

2023? Five years into the future? They're still doing this five years into the future? Oh god, no wonder she looks like that. She almost killed Emma hours ago because of this life she's been saddled with. She can't imagine what five more years of it must have done to her.

She's so preoccupied with how weary her future self looks and how she and Wyatt all but ignore each other that she doesn't catch much of what the rest of the group is saying. She hears the part about not being able to stop Rittenhouse without Rufus but everything else sounds like buzzing in her ears.

Her gaze switches to the future Wyatt. It's so hard to look at him like this. His eyes are usually an indicator of everything he's feeling. Good or bad. But this Wyatt…

She looks in his eyes and she sees _nothing._

He looks disconnected yet _angry_. Is it because of Jessica? It can't just be Jessica, can it? The way he ignores both versions of Lucy Preston seems to say…

God, what did _she_ do to him? Something must have happened between them greater than what's gone on up to this point to cause such _gaping _distance.

Suddenly, a book is shoved into present Wyatt's hands as he stands at her shoulder. That book brings her back into the conversation. She knows that book.

"Everything you need, it's in there," her other self declares.

"Uh, _my_ journal? W-what are we supposed to do with it?"

The Journal is the key? How is the journal the key? If it all relies on the Journal then wouldn't Flynn know? He's been their go-to guy for the Journal this entire time.

"Just figure it out together." Great. That's very helpful, she thinks dryly. Not to self, be more helpful in the future.

"Together?" This isn't making any sense.

"Yes, both of you," Dystopian Lucy clarifies as if she thinks her past self is daft.

Because, after all, that's what together _means_ and questioning it _does_ make her sound a little slow on the uptake. But it sounds preposterous. Future Lucy wants _Wyatt_ to see their private thoughts and feelings? Why? She's done everything she can to shield him from that. He didn't need that on top of everything going on with Jessica. Still doesn't.

While she's on the subject of Jessica…

"What about the baby?" Wyatt asks his future self, with more than a little desperation.

"There is no _baby_." The fury-filled shell of _her_ Wyatt all but spits the words out of his mouth and her future self...looks down and away. Obviously just as hurt by whatever Jessica did with that particular lie. "Jessica lied to manipulate me." He meets her Wyatt's eyes as he clarifies. "_Us_."

Whether he means us as in the two Wyatts or us as in Lucy and Wyatt is never clarified. She thinks both probably applies.

Up until now she's been so focused on observing everything about these two broken people in front of her, that she hasn't really looked at Wyatt, but that news breaks her away from the whirlwind of her own confusion to see _his_. He's stunned into silence by that news.

It's the final blow that completely shatters the illusion of the Jessica he _thought_ he knew. What remains of the heart in her chest cracks for him just a bit more at his aimless expression. He got what he always wanted and it backfired.

Because of Rittenhouse. Because of _Lucy_.

Future Wyatt starts to usher her other self away but they can't go now. She has too many questions. What are they looking for in the Journal? Where do they start? _Why_ is she insisting she and Wyatt go through it _together_? How does she avoid hurting Wyatt any further while protecting her own broken heart? What mistakes did the two of them make so she knows what _not_ to do?

But she never gets the chance to ask because the side effects catch up with them and 2023's Wyatt pulls his Lucy away so quickly that her words are lost to the stale bunker air. He leaves with a half hearted, "Merry Christmas, by the way" and then they're left to try and solve the puzzle _alone_.

Alone. After Wyatt has admitted he loves her and found out that his wife is lying about a _baby_. To trap him. To blind him. To cover her own treacherous ass. How could they all have fallen for her act for so long? Lucy should have seen straight through her the minute she implied that Wyatt had cheated. Wyatt was loyal to a _fault_. No way in hell would he ever cheat. On anyone.

She fell into Jessica's trap too. She stepped aside just as the other woman wanted and let her break Wyatt. No matter what issues she personally had with Wyatt, he didn't deserve that.

Once the other Lifeboat is gone, he retreats to his room. She gives him a moment before she follows. He's been dealt a hard blow. She can't blame him for wanting to regroup. But she also can't sit by and let him internalize it. It's clear, now more than ever, that Jessica manipulated him from the very start. She knew all the right buttons to push. It left Lucy wondering just how long she'd been pushing Wyatt's buttons to get him to do exactly what she wanted him to do.

She finds him in his room, looking deep in thought. She knows exactly what he's feeling. She's been there for weeks now. But she's more accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under her than he is. She's repetitively lost her ground to the unexpected shift of the earth beneath her feet. Honestly, she's still not _found_ her footing from the last time. From _Jessica_. She's tried, but it's hard to do without…

_Without Wyatt._

"I'm so sorry, Wyatt," she says from the doorway of his (and Jessica's) room.

She's never been in here and she can't say she really wants to be here now, but they need to do this. She's meeting him halfway.

"How could anyone lie about something like that?"

She doesn't see rage in him. Just loss and frustration. She's familiar with that combination.

"It's Rittenhouse. It's how they get what they want, and they're so good at it, too. You don't realize it until it's too late." She hopes that offers some soft of comfort. It's a lesson she had to learn the hard way. Maybe her pain can help in this case. "My mother was never the woman I thought she was. Now that she's gone, it still hurts." She pauses to take in her own loss. Her mother's last words will probably haunt her for the rest of her life. But there's no time for that now. This is about _Wyatt_. "You okay?"

His emotions play across his face and transition from hurt and frustrated to bitter and accepting at her question. "Something tells me Jessica wouldn't have been the best mother, anyway."

He's right about that. It's a blessing, really, that she was lying or else that kid would have been raised in a very damaging situation.

They exchange small rueful smiles before he speaks again.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is getting Rufus back."

Damn straight. They've lost a lot but this _one time_ they can fix it. They _have to_ fix it.

He picks up the journal and she holds her breath. She's been dreading this. She has no doubt that those pages hold about hundred drafts of every speech she's ever considered giving to him. Angry speeches. Heartbroken speeches. Hopeless speeches. Every possible emotional take she can think of.

He stops and holds it out to her. "You wanna do the honors?"

No. No she does not.

But she will.

For Rufus.

She sits beside him, barely an arms length away. Close enough to feel his body heat, but distant enough to remind herself of the things they can't take back.

She explains what the documents in the Journal mean when he asks and the minute the words, "our history" leave her lips, she regrets them. She feels that familiar pull. The one she's tried so hard to smother. She can't go there again. It all still hurts.

She's never been enough for anyone before. Why would that change now? Her love has _never_ been enough. She's perpetually second or even _third_ choice to the people she lo—_cares_ about. She doesn't want to be second choice any more. For once, _just once_, she wants to come first. Is that so much to ask?

She wonders why everyone leaves her. She wonders that as often as she wonders what type of person could stay with her. Wyatt didn't stay and his life is exactly as insane as hers. If he couldn't choose her then how could anyone else—_Anyone else_? Hold on. Anyone else? Who is she kidding? There isn't _anyone else_. She never wants there to be anyone else ever again.

It's Wyatt or no one, and she's choosing _no one_.

Because she simply won't survive another blow from Wyatt.

Despite knowing better, she pauses over the Hollywood 1941 pages. Maybe to remind herself of the pain of abandonment. Maybe to put another wedge between them, hoping he'll react badly and reinforce her decision. She doesn't really know why, but she knows he sees her words. They ring with the painful truth of her broken heart. If she wasn't already raw from the last few weeks, she might feel some form of shame, but it is what it is at this point.

He can't change it and neither can she.

No matter how much they want to.

He whispers her name and she looks up on instinct. Meeting his eyes is a mistake but she can't stop herself.

He looks genuinely remorseful and it captures her attention.

"I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to do the right thing."

Water gathers in her eyes and his. She can't look away. That's the heart of it, isn't it? He just wanted to do the right thing. So did she. So, then how did 'the right thing' go so wrong for both of them?

"I know. _I know_," she assures him.

Because she does. It doesn't change what happened. It doesn't take away the pain. But knowing he admitted he loves her just a few minutes ago and hearing him say he never meant to hurt her, well something comes loose in her chest. She's not sure what at the moment, but some tension she's been holding onto releases.

She feels strangely better hearing him verbally confirm none of it was intentional. Some part of her always knew, but hearing it vocalized heals one or two cracks on the surface of her heart.

It was all a horrible accident. They saw it coming but they couldn't stop it. Every panicked move they made only made the damage worse. Now they both sit in the aftermath, equally tangled and twisted.

Wyatt holds her gaze searchingly. He's trying to assess how honest she's being. She's lied to him enough recently that she doesn't dare lie to him now. He must find what he's looking for because he nods and returns his eyes to the Journal pages.

She keeps flipping until she reaches a new mission. One they haven't been on, _yet_. They both scan through her words about the unsinkable Titanic and she's mortified as they do.

Her and Flynn? _Really_? Not that she doesn't see some sense in her future actions. She's not there yet, but Flynn's been invaluable during all of this, personally and professionally. He's not the man she assumed he was. He does possess some form of an honor code. He's not a _monster_. He's lost and broken. Just like her. Just like Wyatt.

So maybe in some future timeline she could see it. She could understand the comfort he might offer. The reprieve from loneliness. She's maybe considered it once or twice in the darkest corners of her mind.

But she doesn't want _Wyatt_ to know that.

He bows out awkwardly, though more gracefully than she expects, and leaves her alone with her thoughts. She still doesn't want anyone if she can't have Wyatt. It's less about Flynn and more about the alternate path he represents. Where does she stand with Wyatt now that Jessica is gone? Surely, he needs time to recover. The whiplash of the last two days has made her weary so it must be affecting him too.

Can she ultimately trust him with her heart again? Will he make the same mistakes twice? _Will she_? Is there a way to forget all the hurt they've inflicted on each other. How do they avoid becoming those people who came to visit them from 2023? Do they avoid that _together_?

Or can they only avoid that by quitting cold turkey? Do they require separation to finally stop hurting each other? Would choosing this alternate timeline that allows Flynn to happen achieve that separation?

She doesn't know and, honestly, she doesn't want to think about it. She just wants to save Rufus, defeat Rittenhouse, and take whatever remains of her life back.

She shoves her feelings for Wyatt aside and concentrates on the Journal. Rufus requires her focus now. Not Wyatt.

The alarm blares and Lucy lets out a frustrated groan. As usual, Rittenhouse has impeccable timing. She leaves the room with a hesitant glance back. Jessica's things are still in Wyatt's room. Her hair brush sits on a table by the bed. Her clothes...her books—she's gone but not _gone_.

Lucy wants to trust that things will balance out now without Jessica around manipulating them all like some sick chess game, but she's still out there. She's still trying to move the pieces in her favor. Who's to say Rittenhouse won't find some way to throw Lucy off balance yet again?

She can't deal with Wyatt while the ground is still uneven. She just _can't_. There's too much distance between them to bridge it _now_. Her eyes find him and then Flynn when she meets up with the team. She understands the phrase "between a rock and a hard place" better than ever now. Being in the same room with both of them after what she's just uncovered is jarring. So jarring that she knows she comes off as flustered while briefing the team on the California Gold Rush.

Two paths are laid out before her. One of risk. One of safety. She has no clue which path to take.

She's on edge and ready to fight. There's too much happening at once. She can feel herself tensing up and locking away her vulnerable emotions. She's growing a shell and a short fuse. She knows she is because cat calling she would typically ignore sends her into a rage. If not for Wyatt, she truly might have hit one of those shameless prospectors.

It's not until later, when they're around a fire with Joaquin Murrieta and his men that she realizes what she's doing. The change from her dress to men's clothes. The front off with a murdering bandit. The chat with Flynn about what could be between them.

Without even thinking about it she's become _her_. The Lucy from 2023 that was all at once a frightening and depressing sight. She tells herself that's not what she wants and in the next breath she's channeling her.

Maybe that's just who she is without Wyatt. Maybe that's who she's meant to be. She thinks she doesn't want that, but maybe…

Maybe she _does_.

She hates that thought.

She distracts herself by further briefing Jiya on Joaquin. She's successful until they're interrupted by Wyatt. He makes a sound that she can't quite describe. It's a combination of hopelessness and guilt. It can only have to do with one thing.

He's been obsessively searching that journal since they stopped for the night. She's tried to ignore him because she honest to god _does not_ want to know what he's reading. But she can't ignore him now.

"Wyatt? What is it?"

"It's Jessica."

Of course it is, she thinks bitterly before daring to ask him to clarify. "What?"

"I keep rereading these pages, and everything leads to the same place. Jessica is the reason Rufus is dead. Rittenhouse brought her back to distract me or spy on us. I don't really know."

God, he sounds like he's going to break down and sob right there. She fights the urge to wrap her arms around him. That's not her place. She doesn't even know if she wants that particular place in his life anymore.

"But I played right into their hands when I brought her into the bunker. Jiya, she's the one who kidnapped you. She's the reason we went to Chinatown. There is a simple equation here. It has been here all along, I just didn't want to see it. It's the reason the future version of you gave me the journal."

"So, you're saying…" Jiya says with a furrowed brow.

"I'm saying because Jessica lives, Rufus dies."

Oh god. The minute he says it they all know it's true. But it doesn't make it less hurtful for any of them. Jessica wasn't as important to them as she's always been to Wyatt, but they know how he was when he lost her the first time. They remember that man they met during that first mission. The idea that he was meant to lose Jessica all along is _heavy._

"And to save Rufus, Jessica has to be taken out of the timeline somehow," he pauses and even in the firelight she can see him reining in his grief and his shame. Again, the urge to hold him rises. She squelches it with great difficulty. "And I'm gonna be the one to do it. I will make sure that Jessica never steps foot in the bunker."

_No_. No, he can't mean—

Jiya beats her to the question. "You mean, go back to your own timeline?"

"No. No way. It's too dangerous. You could die," Lucy says dismissively. She's not letting him do that. He's given up too much as it is. _She's_ given up too much. No matter what role he plays in her life she can't lose him too. Not over _Jessica._ She's not worth it.

"It's the only way to save Rufus."

"How does it help us to save Rufus if it means sacrificing you?" She asks. She admits she sounds angrier than she should, but he is _not_ leaving her behind again. She will not allow it.

He meets her eyes for the first time since he started talking and the way they glisten against the light tells her all she needs to know about what he's feeling. "Because Rufus didn't deserve what happened to him." He pointedly looks away from her as he continues. "You didn't deserve what I did to you. I let everybody down, but I'm gonna make things right."

The words, 'you didn't deserve what Jessica did to _you_' get stuck in her throat. Instead she says, "Well, you're not doing it alone. I'm coming with you."

If he thinks he's abandoning her again, then he's going to be disappointed.

Jiya voices her agreement. They'll get Rufus back together. It's the way it should be. The loss of Rufus isn't on just one person. It's on all of them. They're a team and they look out for each other. If one of them is lost then it's everyone's fault. She will not let him take on all the blame for Rufus.

"Well, it sounds like a noble plan, but if you all die trying to save Rufus, who will be left here to save the world from Rittenhouse?" Flynn asks sagely.

Rufus. The world will have Rufus. But he won't be enough on his own. They all know that. None of them want to say it. It's a kink in the plan, but they'll have to figure out a way around that later.

They need to rest so they can rise early in the morning and find the sleeper. The sooner they find the sleeper then the sooner they get out of here and get to work saving Rufus.

Eventually, she drifts off. She wakes up once to Wyatt tending the fire and acting as look out. Protecting them and not himself, as per usual. In his mind, he's probably counting it as some sort of penance for his crimes against them. Knowing he's weighed down by guilt bothers her more than she wants. She notices Flynn is missing, he tells her that Flynn rode ahead to scout the Mill. She thinks it odd but goes back to sleep anyway. Flynn is hard to read on the best of days.

The next day they ride the rest of the way to the Mill. They don't find Flynn. Prospectors from the day before find _them_ though. They're held at gunpoint and locked up in a shed, tied to posts. _Perfect_.

Time travel is really rewarding work. She can't even think that with a straight face anymore.

"Never thought I'd say this but we could really use our 'tall friend' right about now," Wyatt says dejectedly.

She doesn't disagree. Any backup would be good right about now. But their only options besides Flynn are probably miles away by now with all they gold they can carry. But one discussion about pickled heads later, they hear shouting and the sound of horses in the distance. They look to the door expectantly, shouting for Flynn.

To their astonishment, the person who kicks down the door isn't Flynn.

It's _Rufus._

"Merry Christmas, you filthy animals."

Her heart nearly stops from the shock.

There's laughter and smiles and hugs all around. Rufus, for his part, has no idea what's happening but he's not complaining.

"Rufus...you were dead."

"I—was—what?"

Wyatt fills in the rest. "You died in San Francisco, 1888. Emma shot you."

"When was I in 1888?"

Okay, so no Chinatown in the new timeline. Well, that's a relief. Chinatown was a massive error in judgement for all of them. She won't miss it in her personal history.

"It doesn't matter, okay? You're alive now."

As usual, Jiya's priorities are in check. More so than her and Wyatt's because the first thing he does after learning about their new reality is turn to Lucy to try and work it out.

"How is that possible?"

There's only one answer that she's been slowly coming to in her mind. It has to be their suspiciously missing team member. "Flynn did it."

"Does this mean I'm gonna have to hug him too?" Rufus asks.

If possible, Wyatt looks even more defeated by that news. She has no idea why. It should be a _good thing_. Flynn figured it out. Where ever he is.

Joaquin calls Rufus and Jiya follows after him, leaving Wyatt and Lucy alone to discuss the details.

"Flynn must have taken the Lifeboat and…"

"Taken Jessica out of the timeline," Wyatt answers, completing her thought.

"Rufus didn't die? He went with us on this trip? He's—he's been here all along?" This is a new kind of timeline change for them and she'll admit she's not quite sure how it worked. Not that it matters. Jiya's right. It only matters that Rufus is back. The physics of it is unimportant.

"And Jessica is...gone."

He looks guilty. Heartbroken. Lost. She can't blame him. He's just lost his wife for the second time in his life. Even if he says he loves Lucy, Jessica was still the love of his—

"I guess this is why you end up with Flynn."

Wait, _what?_ Is that why he looks so—No, can't be. He can't look that crushed because he thinks that she ends up with Flynn out of some sick sense of gratitude. Can he? He looks that desolate over _her?_ Lucy Preston? The woman he met _after_ the woman he spent so many years grieving? What she thought she knew about Wyatt's frame of mind, she suddenly doubts.

What she's been seeing as grief over Jessica and guilt over Rufus, might not be what she assumed it was. Does he mean that _he_ _wants_ to be the person she ends up with? Even so close to the whirlwind of Jessica's betrayal and losing Rufus?

He hands her back the Journal and walks passed her to leave. In a rush she turns to reassure him. Yet another instinctual reaction but this time she can't tamp it down. The words escape before she manages to think them through.

"I don't."

His steps halt and he turns on her with a look of hope so potent that it nearly knocks the wind out of her.

"I—I don't end up with him."

In this moment, she's going to allow herself to be open to whatever comes next. The door to her heart is open just enough to let a little light out. She's praying with everything she has that he takes her up on the offer. She tries to make her expression as beseeching as possible.

Rufus calls after them but Wyatt doesn't seem to be deterred at first. An exhale leaves his lips and she can't tell if it's the start of a word or a sigh of relief. She doubts she'll be finding out. Rufus interrupts yet again. Rushing them out the door. She's disappointed but a little relieved. It was a moment of illogical weakness, and as she stands there— wondering what he was going to say—she realizes the journal fell open in the hand off from Wyatt to her. There's a loose piece of paper in the Journal that wasn't there before.

As soon as she unfolds it, her heart sinks.

Just when she thought the losses were over.

It's _Flynn. _They've lost Flynn.

She's really beginning to hate time travel.

Is there _no one_ it won't take from her?

Flynn was a friend. A confidant. He understood her darkest days the way no one else in the Bunker did. They were the only two left who'd lost everything and survived it. As cruel as it was, while Wyatt had Jessica back he hadn't felt like part of their jaded little club. Flynn didn't expect her to see her future through an optimistic lens, he didn't ask anything of her that she wasn't willing to give, and he didn't judge her for her vindictive wishes that Jessica had just stayed gone. He listened. He advised.

He may have been a criminal, but he _cared._

She had so hoped he would get Iris and Lorena back. He didn't. And now the entire Flynn family has met an unfair and untimely end.

She's quiet on the ride back to the Lifeboat, while she buckles herself into her seat, and as she listens to Wyatt's heartfelt toast once they're back in the Bunker. She's quiet and stewing in her own thoughts. Getting Rufus back _killed _Flynn. Getting Jessica back killed Rufus. Getting her mother back erased Amy.

Time travel has consequences and they're seeing them more and more.

Wyatt got what he wanted and it broke him.

Flynn went to extremes for his family and it cost him his humanity.

It all leads her to one question.

What will happen to her if she keeps holding on to Amy?

It sends her diving into the Journal. Flynn's letter mentioned a possible solution for Amy. Maybe if she could figure it out then she wouldn't have to _keep_ holding on to Amy. Maybe Amy could _be here_ instead and her fight would be over. If she didn't drag it out then maybe she could avoid becoming Flynn or losing anyone else. She could force an exception — make herself the loophole.

She reads through every entry, searching every sentence for some sort of clue. There are some things that are out of place but none of them fit into any sort of order. They don't make sense. Everyone else showers and changes and gets ready for bed. But Lucy stays right where she is, on the steps in front of the Lifeboat. She makes notes and tucks them into specific pages. She bookmarks sections she wants to look at later. She treats the Journal like a research project for one of her books.

There has to be a concrete answer somewhere in those pages.

But Flynn's observations about the Journal were accurate. It's disjointed. The entries aren't written chronologically and sometimes there's no entry at all. Just a flier or a ticket, a newspaper clipping. It's a mess. It would take her _years_ to decipher it.

Years of dedicated study. Years of making her life all about Amy. She'd be fine with that, she would. Except it means keeping the Lifeboat and the Mothership operational even after they stop Rittenhouse. _If_ they stop Rittenhouse. Could she live with herself if one of those machines was ever used for selfish gain again? Or if an attempt to save Amy takes another member of her new makeshift family away? What will that sort of power turn her into? Once she's starts getting back the people she's lost will she be able to _stop_?

She doesn't know what to do or how to process any of it. She feels strung out just contemplating the ramifications of time travel or what dominoes would fall if her sister were brought back into the timeline. She needs an opinion, advice.

She needs someone to listen to her fears and her concerns — someone to get her over the hump. There's only one person she's ever trusted for that.

She glances down the hall and catches Christopher as she and Mason are discussing Christmas decorations.

"Is—Is Wyatt's room still at the end of the hall?"

They exchange furrowed brows for a moment, but Lucy swears she sees a small grin on Christopher's face as she replies. "You mean your room? The room you _share_ with Wyatt?"

She trips over her own feet and nearly throws the Journal across the room as she tries to catch herself. "I'm sorry, _what?"_

"You switched rooms with Rufus not long after the mission in 1941," Mason explains. "You and Wyatt, Rufus and Jiya."

1941\. Hollywood. Hedy's Pool House. "Oh." _Oh._

That's all she can manage in reply. _Oh._ She should have expected that, but she didn't. How many times had she imagined where she and Wyatt would be if they'd come back from 1941 and Jessica hadn't been waiting on them? Well, now she has an official answer.

Together. They'd be _together._

She makes her way there, slowly. She's unsure what she's walking into or how she feels about it. As far as Rufus, Mason, and Christopher are concerned Lucy and Wyatt are..._Lucy and Wyatt. _A couple. A unit. The last several weeks of heartbreak have been deleted for everyone but the two of them. All their mistakes are _actually gone._ Literally erased from existence.

If only they could be erased from her memory, too.

Wishful thinking never solved anyone's problems. This isn't a fairy tale. It's real life. The problems between her and Wyatt didn't vanish with Jessica.

Privately, though, she can admit that everything she ever thought she wanted is represented by their shared room. A part of her wants to pretend she's never known any other timeline. To shrug her shoulders, roll with the punches, and kiss Wyatt Logan senseless.

God, does she ever want to kiss him. She's missed kissing him. She's missed being close to him at all.

So maybe by the time she reaches the door she's in a bit of a nostalgic mood, maybe the sight of the room arranged to fit her and Wyatt leaves her a little breathless, and _maybe_ she enjoys the image of him standing there amidst her things (and his) a little too much.

She leans against the doorframe. She's not sure she wants to come in and embrace the private fantasy for reality. Not yet.

"Agent Christopher said that this is, uh…"

"Our room," he says. Continuing his recent trend of finishing her sentences.

"Yeah."

"I guess with, uh, Jessica gone we were…"

And now it's her turn to finish _his _sentence. Her hands nervously fiddle with her tie as she does. "Together."

"Yeah."

He pauses awkwardly and she realizes, for the first time, that he's packing a bag. She feels unexpected disappointment and she has no idea what to do with it.

"But I'm gonna sleep on the couch so…"

"No, you don't have to do that."

"I mean, are you sure? Cause I don't mind."

Does he look a little eager? Is she reading too much into this? Does the idea of sharing a bed after all this time thrill him as much as it does her? She's torn between hoping she's right and being ashamed that she's even thinking about it.

"Come on, Wyatt, it's fine. There are…" There are what, Lucy? "...two beds."

Yeah, real smooth. Not at all awkward.

She slips into the room and settles into one of the chairs at the table in the corner.

"It was really nice what you said about Flynn," she offers in an attempt to change the subject.

"Yeah, well, I meant it."

He says that like she thinks he's in the habit of saying things he doesn't mean. He's meant everything he's said to her. Maybe he made some promises he couldn't keep but it wasn't his intention to break them. Things happened beyond his control. Surely, he doesn't think her opinion of him has fallen _that_ far?

"I know you did."

"You know, he lied to me about the name of Jessica's killer."

Ah, yes, the thing that sent Wyatt off to the 1980s and left her crying on her mother's front staircase. She remembers it well. A little too well. She shoves that memory aside and focuses on his words.

"Cause when you think about it, it was him all along. I spent all this time trying to find the person that ruined my life. I never even considered the fact that he was actually trying to save it."

Neither of them did. How could they? What could she add to make any of this better for him? Now on top of everything else, he had the guilt of not appreciating Flynn's actions the way he should have when there was _no way_ he could have known what was coming. If Flynn knew in advance what would happen, he kept it from all of them.

She doesn't know what to say, so she brings them to the topic that had her searching him out in the first place.

"Flynn told me something else in his letter about Amy," she says as she opens the journal and pulls out the folded paper.

"What's that?" He asks as she joins her at the table.

He's as eager to help her as she wanted him to be. She missed confiding in him. She missed feeling like they were a team all their own. She feels some of that connection now. She's trying to keep her distance so it's the last thing she needs, but she leans into it nonetheless.

"He said there might be a way that I could get Amy back, but I can't figure it out. Besides, Emma already said that there was no way I was ever going to get my sister back again so—"

"If there's a way to get her back, we're gonna do it, Lucy."

His determination doesn't come as any sort of surprise. He's always had her back. Even with Jessica around that fact never changed. But she's a realist. She can read the room.

"Not with Rittenhouse still out there. You heard what Flynn said. We have to stop them because if we don't then…"

"We become those people that paid us a visit."

It's as if he's reading her mind. Her thoughts from before the jump work their way to the forefront of her mind as he continues.

"I don't want that," he confesses. "I don't want that for us. We—we didn't look—"

"Happy?" She guesses.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I noticed that too." But how do they avoid it? How do they work past all the damage between them?

"I don't want to live in a world where we're not just Lucy and Wyatt."

Neither does she but she can't see a road back to where they were before. Hollywood, 1941 is in the rear view mirror and it's not coming back. She'd asked herself, while she was falling for him, what would happen if they came home from a mission to Jessica Logan, alive and well. She never really thought it would happen, but it did and now she has an answer to the nightmare scenario she always feared. How does she forget _that_? How does she pretend she's _not_ his second choice?

_How?_

"But after everything that's happened, how can we un-know what we know?"

The question she manages to ask leaves all of her internal concerns between the lines, but she thinks he'll understand her.

It's a genuine question and she wishes one of them had the answer. She misses him terribly. She misses _them_, together. The infamous Lucy and Wyatt. Preston and Logan. She misses every version in every time they've visited. Can she let herself trust him again? Can it ever get back to the way it was?

She feels like they're the romantic equivalent to Humpty Dumpty. They've fallen off the wall and lay in broken pieces on the ground. Everyone keeps trying, but no one can force the pieces into a shape. She's sick of trying, sick of being _sick_ over it. The moral of the story seems clear to her.

_All the king's horses and all the king's men_ _can never put them back together again._

Yet it doesn't seem so clear to him. He gives her that same hopeless look from the shed in 1848 and she wants a do over. She wants to take her question back. She hates seeing him like this. She hates feeling like this.

Her eyes start to water just as the alarm blares again. It's a necessary reminder of the _present_.

_This_ is their life now. Rittenhouse jumps and they say how high. How can anything change when this is what they're stuck with? She hates his hopeless look, but it _is_ hopeless. It _truly_ is.

Wyatt leaves first after the alarm sounds and she trudges along behind him. She doesn't want to know where they're going next. Each jump is worse than the last. She has no expectation of being sent anywhere exciting or even _stable_.

When Mason announces North Korea in 1950, she despises herself for being right.

Hungnam. The Korean War.

Time to break out that winter wear they never use.

From the minute they step out of the Lifeboat, Lucy notices two things.

First, it's cold down to her _bones._

Second, Wyatt is _different_.

His head is normally on a swivel. She's used to that, but this…

This is _hypervigilance_. The last time he was like this they were in Nazi Germany.

It makes her nervous.

It makes her even more nervous when they run across the casualties of a skirmish on their walk toward Hungnam. It won't be the first time she sees mass casualties this jump, but it's still startling.

They all think they're luck is changing when they find a helicopter pilot waiting for them on the other side of it.

"Come on, I got the last chopper to Hungnam," he calls to them.

Something prickles at the base of her spine. She doesn't like this. She trades a look with Wyatt to confirm he's suspicious too. They follow the pilot and ignore their concerns. What choice do they have?

"Thank God," Rufus says as he races ahead.

"The quicker we get through this frozen hell the better off I'll be," Jiya agrees.

Neither she nor Wyatt say anything to dissuade them. They should have.

Most of what happens once that helicopter takes off his a blur but she distinctly remembers Wyatt grabbing the pilot and fighting for the controls. She remembers because she was more afraid for his life than her own. The pilot was thrown from the aircraft and then she seems to remember Wyatt shoving her out of the open doors just before the helicopter would have crashed. That memory is less clear.

Her eyes slowly open to find Rufus and Jiya close by. Rufus leaves Jiya's side just for a moment to make sure she's okay. She's fine. A little sore and scraped up maybe but fine. The longer she's conscious the more she remembers.

The pilot was working for Emma. That managed to come out as he was attempting to crash them into the snowy earth. Wyatt got the controls, pulled up enough to buy them some time to jump out with minimal risk, but she can't seem to remember if Wyatt jumped with them.

"Rufus!" Lucy calls to him in a panic. "Wyatt. Where's Wyatt?"

"I'm not sure," he answers with a furrowed brow.

"Okay, okay." That's fine. It's _fine_. He has to be fine. "How's Jiya?"

"Piece of shrapnel in her leg but otherwise whole," Rufus says with a relieved sigh.

"And the pilot?"

He points to where the pilots body lays on a jagged piece of helicopter wreckage. "Dead on impact. Thanks to Wyatt."

"Stay with Jiya, I'll find Wyatt," she instructs as she pushes herself off the ground with a wince.

She forces herself to move faster than she should. Her body will not appreciate this later, but she _has_ to find Wyatt. She needs visual confirmation that he made it. After an excruciating minute that felt like an hour, she finds him close to the largest chunks of the crashed helicopter. Unconscious in the snow.

"Oh God, please be okay," she mutters to herself as she kneels next to him. "Wyatt," she tries. There's movement behind his closed eyelids so she tries again. "Wyatt." She knows she sounds frantic but there's nothing she can do to disguise that now. She _is_ frantic. Finally, his eyes begin to open and her wildly beating heart starts to settle. "Wyatt, are you okay?"

He groans and starts to move. Her hands find his arms to offer him support while she reminds him of what happened and what he did for them. When she tells him about the pilot he looks panicked and she feels him tense as he tries to assess the threat.

"It's okay, it's okay, _it's okay_," she assures him urgently. "He's dead. You wrestled the controls away from him."

The first words he says to her should be expected, given how well she knows him, but they aren't.

"We still crashed."

Is he serious? This would have been so much worse without him. Is he really taking the _blame_ for this? He's quite literally her hero. She makes sure to meet his eyes as she responds to him. "We would have died. _You_ saved us."

His bloody fist wraps around the sleeve of her coat but otherwise he has no reaction to her words. Of course, he glosses right over that praise to check on the rest of their team. "Rufus and Jiya?"

She repeats that they're okay until he believes her and helps support him into a kneeling position to match hers.

"Are you okay?" He asks as his eyes roam her face for any signs of damage.

She nods and replies softly, "Yeah."

His hand releases her sleeve to grip the underside of her arm, which reactively slips around his waist. They lean on each other to stand. She can make out scrapes behind his ear and cuts on his knuckles but otherwise he seems stiff and sore like her.

Basically _fine, _just as she hoped he would be. Thank God.

Their hands linger once they stand. Both verifying that the other is truly unhurt before they move closer to burnt out cockpit. The chopper radio still works. They catch a broadcast and find a map, but with one broadcast the situation becomes clear. Emma didn't interfere with any events. This jump wasn't about altering history.

It was about killing all of _them_. She set them up.

"Sleeper's dead," Wyatt says. "The only thing left to do is find the Lifeboat and go home."

She really hopes it's that simple, but somehow she knows it won't be. Nothing ever is for them. They set off back the way they came, knowing they have a long walk ahead of them. At some point, she ends up walking beside Rufus while Jiya and Wyatt lead the way.

"So," Rufus starts awkwardly. "This is weird. In my timeline, you guys are still a couple. You think you'll get back together or what? Because I'm still totally shipping Team Lyatt."

Team Lyatt? "What? What's that?"

"You guys are like...Han and Leia. Arwen and Aragorn." When those first two don't spark recognition for her, he tries one more. "Bella and Edward?"

Still nothing. She shakes her head.

"You guys have obstacles too," he explains.

Obstacles? That seems inadequate. A resurrected wife is a bit more than an obstacle. "Rufus, it's not like we got into a fight. He was married. To someone else who he thought was dead who then all of a sudden wasn't dead. So, he left me—" Literally. The day after they slept together. "—to be with her and I know you don't remember that but it's not something I'm going to forget."

How can she? The wounds still feel fresh.

"Well, apparently I came back from the dead so anything's possible."

If only. She wishes he remembered. She hates rehashing all of this. "I hear that, but I don't want to be anyone's second choice." Not anymore. Not ever again.

Rufus gives her a thoughtful glance before he addresses her response. "When you were kidnapped by your mother, we thought you were dead. We all lost hope. Except for Wyatt. He never gave up on you. He always swore you were out there."

She doesn't want to hear this. Can't he just let her live in ignorance? How can she harden her heart against Wyatt with Rufus reminding her of how wonderful he can be?

"He tried to blow torch his way out of the Bunker to find you."

He what? When did he do this? How had she not heard about it?

"I know there was a Jessica but he was willing to give her up to find me, and I'll tell ya the guy likes me but if he had to give you up...I know for a fact I'd still be dead. That doesn't sound like a second choice to me."

She feels Rufus's eyes on her as she contemplates his words. She knew Wyatt came for her. That he and Rufus traveled to 1918 specifically for her, but she didn't know what came before that. No one had mentioned it. _He _never mentioned it. He tried to blow torch his way out of the Bunker? And did Rufus really believe that Wyatt could never give her up for him? Is it true? She would never want him to have to make that choice but…

God, she wants it to be true.

Maybe she's not seeing things clearly. Maybe she's looking for reasons to doubt Wyatt. Is she holding on to the pain on purpose as an excuse to keep him at an arm's length? Is she doing the practical thing or is she running away from him out of fear?

Her thoughts are disrupted when they finally reach some sort of civilization. A small village. In that small village a crowd of people is passing through trying to make their way to Hungnam to evacuate. Lucy uses it as a distraction to brief the team on what happened to those left behind to suffer the formation of North Korea. It was gruesome.

The outlook becomes even more grim when Wyatt chimes in that they need to get back to the Lifeboat before nightfall and before there's thousands of Chinese troops between the four of them and their ride home. She knew what the probable outcome of that would be but hearing Wyatt say it out loud makes it too real.

The run across a dead ambulance and Rufus talks Wyatt into trying to revive it. Something they seem to be unintentionally good at. When Wyatt suggests she and Jiya go get warm in the church she can't resist teasing him. Maybe it's a result of everything Rufus disclosed to her or maybe she's just tired of all the doom and gloom. But, regardless, the banter feels good. She missed it.

She still misses it. She misses _him_.

Lucy and Jiya slip up in the church. They should have known. There were too many people around to talk so openly. A woman risks her own life to warn them about an informant in the church. She tells them her story and Lucy's heart goes out to her. She's all alone. She's been left behind for the sake of her husband and her son. That type of sacrifice deserves to be rewarded.

But it won't be. Lucy's _knows_ it won't be.

In that moment, she decides they have to help her. They have to change her fate. No person should be punished for being selfless. Life shouldn't be that cruel. It was to her. It was to Wyatt. Even Rufus and Jiya. She won't stand by and watch it be cruel to someone else.

So, when Wyatt comes to get them, she tells him Young-Hee is coming with them.

"Is she important to history?"

"Everybody's important."

"Lucy," he says in exasperation. "What do you want me to do?"

"We have to take her Hungnam. She is super pregnant and she put her life on the line for us no questions asked!"

"The Lifeboat is ten miles north. The Port is eight miles south. We can't lose that much time!"

She understands his point and she knows she's making his job difficult but this is _important_. She can't change what happened to them, but she can change what happens to Young-Hee. It's one good thing. She _needs_ to do one good thing. She needs to be reminded that time travel can have good consequences in addition to bad. She needs to believe they can still use it to save someone. _Anyone_.

If they can do that then maybe Rufus is right and anything really is possible.

_Maybe_.

Jiya and Rufus back her up, but she needs Wyatt on her side too.

"What's the point of saving history if we don't save the people in it?" She pleads, holding his gaze with hers.

With one heartfelt look and a resigned sigh he nods tiredly. "Fine. Let's get her and try to find a back exit outta this place. The wolves are at the door. We gotta go."

They barely make it out of the building and into the ambulance in time to escape the soldiers but they manage it. She spends the ride encouraging Young-Hee, soothing her doubts. Young-Hee has to trust her. This will be for the best. It seems scary but she has to take the leap.

She replays her own thoughts.

_It seems scary but she has to take the leap._

Maybe Lucy needs to take her own advice.

She has a habit of playing it safe or running away. She can count the times she's taken a risk on one hand. Most of those risks came back to haunt her.

Jumping into bed with Jonas cost her a piece of her professional reputation.

Stepping into the Lifeboat cost her Amy.

Falling for Wyatt cost her everything else.

Every other time, when things got difficult she got out. Her fledgling music career. Noah. Hell, even Wyatt. It was easier to tuck tail and run so that's exactly what she did. She was consistent, at least. She'd give herself that much.

The Ambulance dies again and now they're walking. Or they plan to until Young-Hee goes into labor. Wyatt and Jiya stay behind to help (because this isn't Wyatt's first delivery, apparently?) and Rufus and Lucy run ahead to the Port to find a doctor. They find one and for a moment she thinks everything is going to be okay.

But as always, that moment ends.

With a literal, gut wrenching, _bang_.

She's not sure how many times she screams Wyatt's name, but she knows she never stops from the minute she sees the explosion until they arrive back to where they left the other half of their team.

This isn't like the helicopter crash. She wasn't there with him. She has no idea what's happened to him. Losing him completely would fit her pattern, though, wouldn't it?

She's gets one person back and loses another. She thought Flynn was the unjust payment for Rufus but it seems time travel isn't done with her. It takes the one piece of her heart she has left. The one she's been withholding, thinking she was protecting herself. She sees now that was all a lie.

Because she doesn't feel the least bit _protected_ from the pain.

No, she feels _all_ of it. It aches through her bones and threatens to swallow her whole. As far as she's concerned, they can fire another round of artillery fire right where she's standing because she's _done_.

She's just..._done._

She spent all her time since he'd said he loved her debating what to do about it, when she could have just _told him the truth_. A lie of omission is still a lie. She lied to Wyatt about her feelings. She wasted time she could have spent _with him_. She sees now they weren't hopeless. The gulf between them wasn't too wide to cross. None of that was true.

She clung to it as if it were because…

Because she was _terrified_.

Terrified he'd leave her again. That even after all they'd gone through she still wouldn't be enough. Terrified that if she ever lost him a second time she'd never survive it. Instead of opening up to him, she'd wrapped her heart in armor. She'd prepared for battle.

But there was a chink in her armor, because no amount of iron or steel could remove the feelings that were already there.

There's no world, no timeline, where losing Wyatt Logan wouldn't hurt. Whether they're together or not.

It takes losing him for all of that to become clear. She crouches in front of the smoking pile of rubble and screams his name. She'll never forgive herself for this. She had a chance to have a life with him and she threw it away. She chokes through a sob as she pictures going back to the Bunker without him. Fighting this fight, _without him_. She imagines going back to her life before she knew him, and it _tears her apart. _

Her chest feels like it's on fire, as if it's laying in the smoking rubble too.

Why didn't she tell him when she had the chance? Now he'll never know. He'll never hear the words and worst of all — the only memory she'll have of him saying them will leave her forever picturing him broken and lost, sitting on a dirty concrete floor.

That feels..._wrong_. The weight of it crushes her.

He deserved to be happy. _They _deserved to be happy.

And now that opportunity is gone forever.

What she feared — the very thing that kept her from him — has come true. He's left her and this time he's not coming back. She knows as surely as she knows she loves him, that she'll never be happy again. Not completely. Without Wyatt, the light dims.

All her measures of protection have failed her.

She kept him an arms length away and yet it wasn't far _enough_ to survive this loss.

But then she hears something. A rumbling voice that sounds so familiar she thinks she's imagining it. She looks up, not expecting to see him. This is like all those times she's seen Amy in her dreams. It's the ghost of what could have been haunting her. That suspicion doesn't change when her eyes find him walking toward them cooing at a bundle in his arms. She still believes it's a mirage. A glimpse at the future she has no chance of possessing.

But then he smiles, he _speaks_, and he looks right at her. He's there. He's _real. _She feels him in her _soul_. The joy she feels can't be hidden or disguised. For a heart stopping moment in time, she thought she lost him. Finding out she didn't feels like a life saving hit from a defibrillator.

She's got a second chance with him. A second chance at _happiness_.

The immediate priority is getting Young-Hee to the Port so she sets aside her epiphany for the sake of the mission. But she can't help it if she sticks a little closer to Wyatt. She truly thought she would never see him again and now can't stop looking at him. Memorizing him. _Marveling_ at him.

"Wyatt delivered a baby," Jiya says in surprise.

"In the middle of a war zone," Rufus adds.

"Alright, it wasn't a big deal," he says modestly.

Right. Totally not a big deal. People who aren't doctors deliver babies in 1950 North Korea _all the time_. She fights the urge to good naturedly roll her eyes at him. _This man._ He deflects praise he deserves and takes on guilt he doesn't.

"What else don't I know about you?" She asks him.

They share brief smiles, full of warmth, before he puts them back on task. She wishes he'd take a moment to enjoy it — to take pride in himself. But that's fine, if he doesn't want to then she'll do it for him. _She'll_ be proud of him and grateful for his presence in her life. She'll _always_ be proud of him.

Young-Hee's husband and son appear out of nowhere and the baby is hastily passed back to Wyatt. She lets herself watch him, without shame, as he makes a series of silly faces and rocks the baby soothingly. She dares to think he'll make an amazing father. She sees a flash of him somewhere down the road holding a squirming bundle with her coloring and his nose. It comes unbidden and when his eyes stop on hers, for a split second, it hits her just _how badly _she wants that image to come true.

She wants _him_. She doesn't give a damn about the past anymore. Yes, he hurt her, but she hurt him too. If he can get passed it to tell her how he feels then surely so can she. The past can only hurt them if she lets it. They both made mistakes. The important thing is that they learn from them.

They just need to get home so she can get him alone. They need to talk but she's not sure North Korea is the appropriate setting.

Although, it turns out she may not have much choice. They can't get a truck. They're all rigged with explosives. They have to hoof it back to the Lifeboat and the sun is now rapidly sinking under the horizon line. They reach the little village they passed through earlier but it seems more sinister than it did before.

It could have something to do with the dead bodies in the street. Probably. _Most likely_. Or the fact that they're surrounded by Chinese forces. Or both. Definitely both.

They hide in the church, hoping to wait out the Chinese forces encircling them and then make a miraculous run for the safety of their time machine. It's a long shot, but there's not many other options.

Although, she doubts what they're doing is a realistic option. Wyatt hasn't said it out loud but she sees the way he's tensed. She notices the way he checks all the entrances to the church and then paces between them. They've been outnumbered and outmaneuvered. They're putting all their hopes on the chance that the church is somehow _safe_.

But what if it isn't? Rufus tried to ask that earlier. Wyatt dodged his question.

She knows what that means.

They probably aren't getting out of here alive.

So much for getting home and getting Wyatt alone.

She doesn't care about their past anymore, but the bright future she glimpsed doesn't seem like an option either. All they have is right now, for as long as it takes the Chinese to find them. She sits down at the altar and waits.

They won't make it home. That's bad enough. But infinitely worse is the idea that their deaths might impact the fate of the world. The whole reason Flynn made the sacrifice he did is so that none of them died before they could stop Rittenhouse. Their deaths here will put the world at risk while simultaneously invalidating Flynn's last noble act.

The guilt she feels is at that thought is astounding.

She registers movement next to her as Wyatt sits down.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks.

She doesn't answer him right away. She's not sure he'll like her answer, but eventually she decides it's time she stop lying to him about her thoughts and feelings. If he wants to know her thoughts then she'll tell him. She'll tell him _everything_.

"Flynn," she replies. She feels his eyes on her after she answers, boring into the side of her face. Probably reading every little movement she makes for signs of distress. "The last thing he said to us before he left to get in the Lifeboat was 'If we all run off to save Rufus who will save the world?' If we die tonight—"

He interrupts her with a voice full of steely determination. "I'm not giving up yet."

She feels his eyes on her again but she can't bring herself to meet his gaze. Her emotions are a swirling mess of confusion. It's been an insane couple of days and she can't believe it all led them _here_. To a situation that looks more and more like a dead end with every passing minute.

She thinks Wyatt's done but he surprises her.

"Guess it's all up to fate."

The grin forms on her face before she can catch it, leading her to meet his eyes for the first time since they entered the church.

He takes in her grin and gives her a curious look. "What?"

"You," she answers before she turns her grin on him again. "Talking about fate."

He grins back for a moment and then…

"So, you were right."

Oh, she should be recording this. This will never happen again in her lifetime. He's admitting she was right and she's not having to pull it out of him with sarcasm.

"And here you had me convinced there was no such thing," she says as she barely holds back a chuckle.

"Timing is everything, right?"

His gaze finds hers and it all hits her at once. Almost losing him earlier, the brief hope she had for a future, the fact they're talking so honestly _now_. None of it has been timed correctly. Timing is their fatal flaw. Always has been.

Even now, she thinks with a quiet scoff.

She's decided to forgive their past. She's pretty sure they don't have a future.

So…

No time like the present.

It's, quite literally, _now or never_.

"After that explosion, I thought you were dead. And for a moment, I saw my whole life without you. And my world _ended_, Wyatt." She doesn't give him a chance to reply. She needs to get this all out and she needs to get it out now. "I just kept thinking about all this time that we had wasted. Just wasting so much time. And then, all of a sudden, there you were. Holding a stranger's baby that you had delivered. And I knew."

"You knew what?" He asks with a wary expression. He looks as if he wants to be hopeful, but can't bear to be disappointed.

She knows the feeling. It pushes her forward.

"I'd fallen in love with you. And nothing that happened or didn't happen or might happen was ever going to change it." She turns, angling herself to face him, and waits until he mimics her position. There's joyful tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, despite their current situation. She feels a weight lift off of her shoulders as the words leave her lips. "I love you, Wyatt Logan. I've loved you since the Alamo, since you kissed me with Bonnie and Clyde, since that night in Hollywood."

He shakes his head, staring at her in disbelief. His blue eyes lock on hers, his mouth opens and closes a time or two, and then he finally finds his words. "What happened after...I wanted to choose you. I just felt like I owed her something."

God, it's everything she ever wanted to hear in two sentences. She wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes and sniffles, gathering herself before he continues.

"I wish I could take it all back."

Funny, he mentions that. "And the crazy part is, Flynn already did. And now all we have between us is a past that only _we_ remember."

He nods but he still looks uncertain. "So?"

"I don't care about the past anymore. And we might not have a future. Maybe all that matters is right now."

He shakes his head as if he might say something else, but what else needs to be said? He's told her everything she needs to know. All that's left is to seal it with a kiss.

After all this time, his kisses are still exactly as she remembers. Soft, sweet, and insistent. If this is all they have then at least there's no more secrets between them.

They understand each other and for just this moment in time…

Their timing is _perfect_.

So perfect that she thinks the church bells she hears are in her head. Some sort of imagined symbol of how _right_ they are together. But when the church begins to shake and lights flash outside, she knows that's not the case. Something is happening. Something _big_.

Wyatt opens the door, gun drawn, to find Christopher, Emma, and the Mothership.

Just like that, hope returns.

Sure, she has to face down Emma first. She has to _yet again_ be taunted with her sister's life. It's a bargaining chip that _both_ sides have used against her. _A weakness_. Emma makes her case. She lobbies hard. But in the end it's Emma's own words that make Lucy's decision for her.

"You just have to trust me," Emma told her.

Trust her? Trust the woman who asked her to kill an innocent man? The woman who helped her mother plant Jessica among them? Who betrayed Connor and Rufus for Rittenhouse?

That would _never_ happen.

The Chinese forces finally catch up with them. Emma falls to her own plan. Her team escapes to the Mothership. Alive. Whole. _Together_.

Rufus drops her and Wyatt at the Lifeboat so they can bring it home. The auto pilot feature will allow them to pilot it without an engineer. Which means she and Wyatt are left alone.

It leads to a discussion of Rufus and their future selves. She prefers Wyatt's theory to her own. That their future selves not only came back for Rufus, but for them too. They came back to change their own fates. To make sure things turned out differently — _better_.

He checks her seatbelt, calls her ma'am. It starts to feel like old times until he suddenly stops stares at her with a thoughtful expression.

"What?"

His hands move to her thighs, tucking under them on either side. It's simple but comforting. _Addicting_. Even as teammates and friends, they were always oddly tactile. It feels wonderful to have that back.

Even if the words he says next take them to a place she really didn't want to go.

"We can try to get Amy back now. We have both time machines."

Her hands cover his and her voice sounds more certain than she expected it to as she answers him.

"No."

"Yeah, but the stuff in the journal…"

"No, Wyatt. I've thought a lot about this." So much that she's exhausted of thinking about it any further. "Look at all the awful things that Flynn did in the name of saving his family. Look what happened when you got Jessica back. I mean, I am so thankful that we saved Rufus, but it cost us Flynn. And if we're willing to use this machine to get back the things that we've lost, no matter the price, I mean..._when will it end_? We'd be no better than my mother or Emma."

He nods reluctantly and leans back to finish buckling himself in when she returns his nod with one of her own.

He watches her carefully as he pulls on the straps of his harness. "You sure you're okay with that?"

She can't look at him any longer and talk about this without crying. She looks away and nervously tugs on her restraints. "Of course not. But everybody loses someone that they love." When she feels composed enough she looks up at him again, with watery eyes. "And no matter how badly they want to, they can't get them back. And in spite of that, they find a way to go on. That's everyone's history."

She cannot hold on to Amy forever. Amy wouldn't want her to be so beholden to her losses that she doesn't see what she's gained. Amy always encouraged her to live life so that it makes her happy. If she continues letting Amy be this carrot that people use to exert power over her then that will never happen.

For Amy's sake and hers, she needs to say goodbye.

It hurts like hell and the decision will forever be a part of her. A kernel of guilt will follow her wherever she goes. But the alternative is too dangerous. The fate of the world shouldn't be jeopardized for her selfishness.

He holds her eyes for a prolonged pause, processing her answer and probably analyzing her face to discover each and every emotion that flickers across it. He can't read her mind, but sometimes it feels as though he can. Thankfully, he seems to accept her answer. She can tell he doesn't like it, but then neither does she so she understands.

But he accepts it, which is all she needs him to do, and they go home — hand in hand.

It's not perfect, but it's theirs.

And she thinks if nothing else, she's come away from all this with the answer to at least one question she's been asking herself for far too many years.

She wondered, given everyone who leaves her, who could stay.

With her hand molded perfectly to Wyatt's as they travel home and his gaze meeting hers, her answer seems clear.

_He _can stay.

He can stay with her for the rest of her life. She has no plans to run away from him ever again.


	6. Now I See Daylight

**A/N: **This one was my favorite to write so far. I smiled from beginning to end with the exception of one moment that left me with happy tears in the middle of Barnes and Noble, but that's okay. Hopefully you guys enjoy this as much as I did.

This should fill in some 212 blanks leading up to the Lyatt bedroom scene.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

Now I See Daylight

By angellwings

* * *

"Luck of the draw, only draws the unlucky,

And so I became the butt of the joke.

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked.

Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke.

Maybe you ran with wolves and refused to settle down,

Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town.

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now.

It's brighter now,

_Now._"

-"Daylight" by Taylor Swift

* * *

The Lifeboat lands with a jolt though not as large of a jolt as they've gotten accustomed to, thanks to future Jiya. They sit in the quiet for a moment before opening the hatch. As much as Wyatt wants to sequester Lucy in his—_their_ room and decompress for the rest of the night, he knows the debrief and mission reports come first. It may be their last mission, but post mission protocols never change.

Their eyes continually drift to each other as they remove their seatbelts. The minute Lucy's arm is removed from the last of the straps, he springs forward to steal a kiss. The few from the church left him wanting more. Not that he expected anything less. Lucy Preston always leaves him wanting more. He can never have his fill of her.

She makes a sound that's a swirl of amusement and surprise against his lips. He feels her smile before her hands slide up his arms and into the short hairs at the back of his neck. He wraps his arms around her and straightens from his position bent over her seat, bringing them both to stand. His hand idly skims across her back, between her shoulders, and the contented noise she releases into his mouth is a balm to his guilt ridden soul.

Really, just a happy Lucy Preston in general is a balm to anything that ails him. Especially after they've faced so much grief and pain together.

The cold of Hungnam hasn't quite left them yet. Her clothes are covered in a lingering chill, her hands in his hair feel like ice, but the heat between them more than makes up for it.

Lucy laughs lightly as she pulls away from him with flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. "If we don't go out there soon, they'll start to worry."

He quirks a brow at her. "Please. They all see right through us. They know exactly what's going on in here."

Her light laugh shifts into a full guffaw and it reminds him of a sunrise. It's a golden light that slowly rises and thaws the frost that threatened to choke them both.

"We still have to debrief," she reminds him, smirking ever so slightly.

"I know," he says with a nod. "But before we go out there I need to do this the right way."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Do what the right way?"

He sucks in a nervous breath and feels one corner of his mouth pull upward. "The words, Lucy. Last time I said them we weren't in a good place and I—Jesus, I couldn't even bring myself to look at you." His crooked smile falters and he tightens his hold on her. He's still worried this all might go away. "I know we have a lot more to talk about than what we said in the church but before we go out there and relive all the shit we just went through, I want to make sure I get _this part_ right."

Her stare wanders his face while he talks and when she opens her mouth to speak he expects her to brush him off and tell him not to worry about it. He's ready with his rebuttal but his expectations are wrong.

She nods once and settles her amber eyes on his. "To be honest, I wouldn't mind a do over," she admits. "I should have been honest with you afterward and told you how I felt instead of...I don't know shutting off, I guess?"

His eyes narrow and he wags his head back and forth with a scoff. "No, you had every right to keep those words to yourself, Lucy. I hurt you. You needed time. I get that."

He truly does. There are no hard feelings in his heart about that. He mostly just feels goddamn lucky she said them back _at all_.

"Still," she says with a small wan smile. "I'm all for a second chance at getting _that _right. And I think...I think we hurt _each other_, Wyatt. You didn't do _all_ the damage yourself. If you're honest, I hurt you too."

He swallows thickly and glances away from her. He doesn't feel as though he has a right to mention it. She suffered more than he did, and he could have pushed passed her walls. Looking back, he saw her building them around herself. Every time she told him to be with Jessica, deep down he _knew_ that wasn't what she wanted. He waited for a sign he shouldn't have needed. He should have taken the leap and chosen Lucy even if he wasn't sure she'd reciprocate.

But at the time, he thought he was respecting her wishes. He thought ignoring her insistence that they were over would hurt her more deeply. He didn't want to harass her, even though it killed him every time she shut him down. He wanted to talk — to tell her how he felt. She didn't.

Lucy's right.

_It hurt_.

"Wyatt…?" She asks worriedly.

"The difference," he says with a conflicted huff. "Is that I deserved that hurt."

She raises a stern brow at him. "Like hell you did. Rittenhouse, Jessica, even _my mother_, used your loyalty against you, Wyatt. You don't deserve pain for trying to do the right thing."

"Was I trying to do the right thing? Or was I just too chickenshit to admit my marriage to Jessica was never how I remembered it?" His question is rhetorical. He has no answer. Neither does Lucy. But he can't keep it in any longer. "I romanticized it so much, Lucy. The rose colored glasses went on the minute she went missing. We weren't an epic love story. Even if my Jess wasn't Rittenhouse, at best we were two kids with no one else who got married on impulse. I couldn't let her go because she was all I had, even if we made each other miserable. There was never any lightning. I led myself to believe there was, but looking back...the lightning was barely even static electricity."

"That's not unusual," she assures him. "I do that with my dad. With Amy. I'm sure I'll eventually start doing that with my mother too. No one wants to remember the bad things about the people they lose."

"No, but I didn't have to pass it on to _you_," he tells her as he rests his forehead against hers. "The whole reason you kept telling me to go back to Jessica was because you thought that she and I were...that she was…" He lets his sentence fade with an emotional gulp. He's let Lucy believe she wasn't a priority for too long. It's difficult to admit he deceived himself about Jessica, but it's more unbearable to think Lucy doesn't know who she really is to him. He takes a deep breath and pointedly pins his gaze with hers. "I let you believe that she was the love of my life, Lucy, and that's not the case. _Hasn't_ been the case for a long time now."

Lucy inhales sharply and her eyes immediately water. She blinks rapidly and he knows she's trying not to cry. She presses her lips together and brings her soft hands to frame his face. When she speaks, he can hear the emotions sticking in her throat. "What?"

"_You're_ the lightning, ma'am," he says as an affectionate grin pulls at one corner of his mouth. His eyes are watering now too and breathing through his emotions is becoming increasingly more difficult. "_You_. Not Jessica. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. There should never have been a choice because...Jesus, you're _the only choice_, and I'm never gonna let you doubt that again. Clear?"

"Clear," she says in a hushed tone. She releases a shaky breath and then beams at him. He's reminded of that same sunrise from earlier. Her thumbs trace across his cheeks for a lingering beat before she presses her lips to his again.

She presses herself flush against him and deepens the kiss as her fingers slip through his hair. She's giving him everything in this kiss. He can _feel _it. Every bit of her. One kiss becomes several until finally she's slows them down with shorter kisses to his lips, his jaw, and then finally just below his ear.

"You're my lightning, too," she whispers. He feels her cheek sliding over his as she nods and tightens her arms around him. "Didn't know it actually existed until you."

She takes half a step back to meet his eyes but doesn't step out of the circle of his arms. They've been through freezing conditions, a helicopter crash, and shed more than a few tears. Yet, she still looks breathtakingly beautiful.

"I love you, Lucy," he says as he brings a hand up from her waist to cup her cheek.

"I love you, too," she replies with a wide smile and glistening eyes.

They stand there for, what must be several minutes, sharing silly grins before his eyes finally move past her to the Lifeboat hatch. He sighs and takes her hand in his, threading their fingers together.

"Time to face the music."

Lucy laughs. "It's just a debrief. Same as always."

"Not just any debrief," he tells her as he slaps the button by the door. "The _last_ debrief, after a pretty traumatic mission. It might take a while."

"What are you worried about?" She asks him with a knowing glance.

"That reliving it all might make you reconsider," he answers with a swallow.

She leans up and presses a quick kiss to his lips with a shake of her head. The certainty in her eyes is soothing. "Not a chance. I'm not going anywhere, Wyatt. Not without you."

They step out of the Lifeboat to knowing smirks and teasing eyerolls. Rufus and Jiya are dismissed to their room. Wyatt plans to keep his hand tight in Lucy's and rush passed Christopher, but the DHS agent sees that coming from a mile away.

She steps in front of them with a parental glare. "You two aren't getting away that easily. You know the drill."

He lets out a labored sigh. Lucy chuckles from her spot next to him and squeezes his hand.

"I'll go first and I'll make it as quick as I can," she tells him. "Take a shower, warm up. We'll talk more later."

"Bossy know-it-all," he mutters teasingly as he releases her hand.

"Better that than a reckless hothead," she replies with a wink just before she follows after Denise.

He follows orders. He showers under the hot water, changes clothes, and makes himself a cup of coffee to drink while he waits for his turn. He checks the contents of his phone. Something he hasn't done in this timeline, yet. He flips through his social media. It's all basically dead since he's supposed to be laying low. Not that he was ever good at social media before, that is. Finally, he gets to his camera roll.

He's never really been a picture taking kind of guy. Jess always had to force him to take photos. He knows that about himself so he doesn't expect much. His eyes widen as he opens the photo application. Apparently, he has no problems using his camera with Lucy. There are selfies upon selfies as well as candids of her in various spots around the bunker. A few videos of her glaring at him over a cup of tea and a thick book. His phone is bursting with happy memories he doesn't have.

Normally, this would bring on resurgence of regret because this could have been them for weeks now, but he's surprised to find he feels mostly..._hope_. Maybe this hasn't been them for the last few weeks, but it _can be_ in the future.

It _will_ be.

He doesn't know how much time passes, but eventually he feels a gentle touch trail across his back and looks up to find Lucy. Her eyes are red rimmed and a little haunted but there's still light behind them. That's a good sign.

"You're up, soldier," Lucy tells him with a light squeeze of his shoulder. "I'm going to get cleaned up and wait for you in the room."

He nods as he stands from the table. "I'll find you when I'm done."

He walks toward the closet-turned-conference-room and manages to only glance back at her twice. That's a pretty big accomplishment considering how badly he wants to turn around and find out exactly what's haunting her. But he'll have time for that later.

After all, she'll be waiting in _their_ room.

How did he get here? Just forty-eight hours ago he was convinced he'd lost any chance he had with her. He's relieved to have been wrong.

Christopher motions to the empty chair across from her as he enters the room and then proceeds to ask him a multitude of questions about the minutiae of _everything_ that happened after the Lifeboat took off for North Korea. He answers her questions dutifully. Sometimes having to answer the same question, phrased a different way. It's a technique to get him to remember details he may have overlooked initially. He's very familiar with it. The whole thing is boring as hell.

There are only two memories he falters over. The helicopter crash and the Church just before Christopher found them. The first because he was genuinely terrified for his team and frantic to keep them safe. The second because everything that happened at that alter with Lucy felt completely and utterly _private_. It's theirs and theirs alone.

When Christpher's satisfied with her mission report, she changes the topic.

And he's not sure he _likes_ this particular topic.

"So," she says as she opens, what appears to be, his DHS dossier. "What's next?"

Fuck, he's not prepared to answer that question. "Next?"

She nods. "I'm still waiting for the official order telling me I can send you all home, but once I have it...what will you do? Pendleton, I assume?"

_Pendleton_. The idea of Pendleton makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to think about another life threatening mission after this one. Long deployments. Enemy combatants. Training in between deployments. Leaving Lucy for long stretches of time. He felt so aimless with Delta Force and after Jessica's death that was fine. He didn't have a home so he didn't need to stick around. But the thought of going back to that feels like a chunk of lead in his gut.

But what else is there? This is all he knows. And he's damn good at it. He's worked his ass off to be good at it. He doesn't want to leave again but...giving it up and changing his entire career seems _extreme_. He still wants to serve his country. He simply wants to do it closer to home.

He's not sure what that means or what his options will be, but that's what he _wants._

"I suppose so," he answers, bouncing his leg nervously.

"You _suppose_ so?" Denise asks with a kind smile. "That doesn't sound very convincing, Wyatt."

He gives her a self deprecating grin and shrugs. "Never really been that great of a liar so that makes sense."

"You don't want to go back?"

"I want to serve, but I'd rather stay stateside. Preferably somewhere close to Palo Alto," he replies honestly.

She smirks and nods slowly, as if she sees straight through him. "And close to a certain Stanford Professor we both know?"

"Well, that's a _distinct_ advantage to sticking around Palo Alto, yes. But it's more about...feeling at home," he says thoughtfully. "Everyone I care about is here. Including Lucy. I've never really had that before. Now that I've found it, I don't like the thought of giving it up. Even on a temporary basis. I want to be here, in the present, living some version of a normal life while somehow doing what I'm best at, serving and protecting. Not sure how I'll do it, but...I'll figure it out."

"A work life balance is good," Christopher agrees. "You deserve it. You're a phenomenal soldier, but life should be about more than just _that_."

There's silence as she reads over the first page of his dossier. He's not sure what's on it. He doesn't have high enough clearance to see it. He has a feeling, though, it's his stats at a glance. Like a resume and a background check all at once.

Without glancing up at him, Christopher poses a question. "You ever thought about a transfer?"

His brow furrows. "To where?"

"Special Projects, Department of Homeland Security." She keeps her face blank as she lifts her head from the file to meet his eyes. "With me."

"Homeland Security?" He asks. Consider him intrigued.

"I could always use a well trained soldier with a record like yours. I've found your perspective invaluable on these missions. I'd like to apply that perspective to a broader scope of threats," she explains. "It's based in Palo Alto. It has pretty regular office hours. You're on call in case of an emergency, but those are rare. You may have the occasional out of town assignment, but never for very long."

"How long is 'never for very long'?" He's skeptical. This sounds too good to be true.

"The longest out of town assignment I've had is four weeks. But I doubt you'd see an assignment like that for a long time, depending on how you like it and if you can see yourself in the job long term. It's rewarding work, Wyatt. I particularly think you'll like my team's next assignment."

He narrows his eyes at her. "What assignment is that?"

"Rounding up the rest of Rittenhouse. Emma had the Mothership so she was our biggest threat, but the people in charge before she absconded with a time machine are still out there. And we've got a witness ready to deal," Denise says with a wicked grin. "Those bastards have no idea what's coming."

He mirrors her grin and leans forward, folding his arms on the table. "You're right, I would like that assignment."

"Thought as much," she says with a muted chuckle. "So, are you in?"

"Are you serious?" This really is too good to be true. It has to be.

"So serious that I've got the paperwork right here," she says as she pats the folio where she stores her mission reports. "Sign it all now and I can send them off as soon as I'm done debriefing the others. What do you say, Master Sergeant? Want to help me finish the job?"

"I say, gimme a goddamn pen."

Denise laughs loudly and opens her folio. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

He spends a half hour filling out a shit ton of paperwork but he doesn't even mind. It's a step in the right direction. Time will tell if it's a job with staying power, but he's _certain_ it's where he's supposed to go from here. It _feels_ right.

"Hopefully," Denise tells him as he hands her the finished paperwork. "I'll have new orders for you in the morning."

"On Christmas?" Wyatt asks in surprise.

She looks like the cat that ate the canary as she replies, "It's all about who you know, Wyatt, and I'm very well connected." She waves a hand to the door to brush him off. "You're dismissed. See you in the morning."

He bids her goodnight and leaves with a little extra bounce in his step. Without Pendleton on the horizon, he's truly free to live in the moment. To _enjoy_ his Christmas — _with Lucy_.

His life has done quite the turn around in the last few hours. It's a little overwhelming but he's not fighting it. He's going with flow. He wants to feel every second of it - painful, joyous, giddy…

All of it.

He stops in the open doorway to the bedroom he now shares with Lucy and leans against the frame. She's settled in the bed, an oversized sweater around her shoulders, socks on her feet, and a satin nightgown hugging her curves. She looks cozy and comfortable, like this is the only place she's meant to be.

She looks up from her phone to see him watching her and the corners of her mouth turn up slowly in a smile that makes him forget the late hour. As far as he's concerned the day has just begun and he has all the time in the world to enjoy it with her.

"You're back," she announces.

Her eyes are no longer red or haunted. They're a bright and lively shade of cinnamon that he hasn't seen in a while. Not since that night in Hollywood to be exact.

"How'd it go?" She asks in concern.

"Same as always," he replies with a casual lift of his shoulder. He wants to tell her about the job, but in case those people Christopher knows don't pan out he doesn't want to get her hopes up. Orders are orders and if he's ordered back to Pendleton, he'll have to go. Best to wait and find out what those orders turn out to be. "How was yours?"

She sighs but her eyes don't change. "Had a bit of a moment reliving the artillery fire and Emma holding Amy over my head at the end but otherwise fine."

"She wouldn't have done it, you know," Wyatt assures her. "No way in hell Emma would have brought Amy back just like that. She would have strung us along and then bailed."

Lucy takes a deep breath and nods. "I know."

"You did the right thing," he adds for good measure.

She smiles softly at him and nods. "I know that too, but thank you for the vote of confidence. Do you plan on actually coming in the room or…"

He quirks a brow at her and laughs. "Went all of two minutes without you bossing me around."

She rolls her eyes. "Get in here and shut the door, Logan."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," he says with a mock salute.

"And _that_ was two minutes without a _ma'am_."

"If you get to boss me around then I get to call you 'ma'am'. Can't have one without the other," he declares with a smirk as he steps in the room and closes the door behind him.

"Hey, listen to this," she says.

"Yeah," he says as he takes a seat in the chair in the corner. He plans to join her in that bed as soon as he can. She looks too appealing to sit there all alone.

He listens to her read aloud about the fate of Young-Hee and her family while he takes off his shoes. Young-Hee lived to an old age and the baby girl he'd held just a handful of hours ago had grown up to become a teacher like her mother with two kids of her own. He was jealous of how beautifully simple that life sounded.

"Wow. Sounds like a crazy, ordinary, wonderful life," he states. He hears the wistfulness in his tone and he's not the tiniest bit ashamed of it. He wants that. _Ordinary_ sounds amazing to him.

"Thanks to you," Lucy reminds him.

He stands and makes his way to the foot of the bed, grateful when she climbs across the bed to meet him halfway. There's no way he deserves credit for this. If it had been up to him they would have gone straight to the Lifeboat, no distractions. "No. That was your call. You're the one that said everyone's important."

"Maybe not to history," she replies as he snakes his arms around her waist. She leans into him without a moment's hesitation. "But everybody is important to someone, I think."

God, he's missed this. Talking to her, touching her, just being near her. Everybody is important to someone, and Lucy Preston is very important to him. Miracle of miracles, he's important to her too, he thinks with a chuckle.

Her head tilts upward just as he's about to go in for a kiss.

"Careful," she warns him with a pointed glance at the ceiling.

He follows her eyes to a hanging gathering of mistletoe on a red ribbon, just above the foot of the bed.

"How'd that get there?" He asks as their mutual laughter surrounds them.

"Apparently, Agent Christopher has a dirtier mind than we thought," Lucy answers.

"I mean, it is a custom."

"Mhm," she agrees playfully.

"All right," he says a second before he presses his lips to hers.

They chuckle their way into the first kiss. It leads into a slow burning series of quick open kisses — ending with him capturing her bottom lip as she leans back to look at him.

"That's the first time we've done that in the present. I mean, our present." She's clearly flustered and fumbling with her words. She closes her eyes briefly to focus and he watches her in adoration the entire time. "I mean, 2018."

True enough, and it's high time they add a few more kisses to that tally. "Well, it's gonna be 2019 soon."

"True." The cinnamon shade in her eyes flashes even brighter in the dim light, urging him forward.

"So, maybe we should…" He doesn't have to finish his sentence. As usual, Lucy Preston is one step ahead of him.

"Make up for lost time?"

The smile she flashes him is all the encouragement he needs to close the distance again and push her back toward the bed. It's almost midnight but right here with Lucy it feels like a new day. The sunrise he's been glimpsing in her presence confirms his thoughts. Every love he's experienced before was a flash in the pan. It burned fast and accomplished nothing. Left him no comfort, brought him no home. It was all a blur of burning red.

But _this _love — _Lucy's love_ — is a shimmering light that offers warmth and illumination in an all encompassing stunning shade of gold. He's never experienced anything like it. She's his light in the darkness, a sunrise after a hurricane.

Peace that stills and soothes.

He was asleep until the day he met her, living in a pitch black night that had lasted _decades_. Now, he's awake, _alive_, for the first time in far too long. Because of her and _for her._

If all that came before was night…

Then Lucy is his daylight.

It's passed time that he let himself step into her light and let his past go.

The guilt, the shame, all his mistakes are things to grow from but he won't dwell on them anymore. He won't let them define him.

He's going to build a life that's good. A crazy, ordinary, _wonderful_ life full of love and light and let _that_ define him.

It's time to step into the daylight and let it go.

And that's just what he plans to do.


	7. Let Me Keep You Company

**A/N: **This one shot is doing double duty. It's part of the YAWYL series but also fulfilling one of the prompt game one shots I promised you guys forever ago. This is intended to take place between the deleted scene and Christmas morning with the rest of the team. It's short but saucy so hopefully you guys like it.

Also, it gets a BIT smutty so be warned lol.

See the note at the end for the prompts!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - since it's only a BIT smutty I'm keeping the rating at T on FFN (please don't report me). I'd hate for this fic to get lost in the rating filters because of 1700 words (of which only like a third is smutty).

* * *

Let Me Keep You Company

By angellwings

* * *

"Cause one of these things is not like the others.

Livin' in winter, I am your summer.

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover,

I promise that you'll never find another like,

Me.

I'm the only one of me,

Let me keep you company.

You're the only one of you,

Baby, that's the fun of you.

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me."

-"Me!" By Taylor Swift Ft. Brendan Urie

* * *

It's a good thing they won't be chasing Rittenhouse today because the amount of sleep they'd gotten the night before did not match the amount of energy they'd burned so far this morning.

But that's what happens when you're making up for lost time.

His Christmas present had gone over as well as he hoped. He'd seen it in the props department while Lucy and Rufus were deciding on clothes for Hearst's party and immediately thought of Lucy. There was no real logic behind it. He saw it, thought it would make her smile, and hid it under his hat. He had every intention of giving it to her before now but he'd never gotten the chance.

He'd kept it well hidden while Jess was around. It's purpose went from gift to memento. He felt guilty at the time because it was detrimental to his attempts to fix his marriage to Jessica, but now that guilt was gone. There was a reason he could never let that ornament go. There was a reason he could never really let _Lucy_ go.

That reason led him to this bed with her. She is no longer just a memory he treasures in the middle of the night. She's real. She's here. She's _now_. It only made sense to give her the ornament. He doesn't need it to remember her by any longer.

The satin nightgown she'd thrown back on in the middle of the night is gone again. Thanks to their early morning present exchange. And Lucy is collapsed on top of him, catching her breath in between soft kisses to his neck and shoulders.

"Best Christmas ever, hands down," he says with a playful pat on her ass.

She laughs against the crook of his neck and he feels the shake of it transfer from her body to his. "Of _all_ your Christmases ever? Really?"

"I spent last Christmas pinned down in a desolate hellhole in Afghanistan," he replies honestly. "So, yeah, definitely my best Christmas."

He feels her stiffen and then after a lingering beat she rolls off of him with a sigh.

"Right," she says. "Delta Force ops don't stop for Christmas, I'd imagine." She stops to swallow thickly and then adds, "Who knows where you'll be next year."

Christ, he's unwittingly brought them to the subject of the future and his career.

"Lucy…"

"I know, I know. The orders are assigned. You don't get to choose where or _when_. Could be next week, next month—"

"Or today," he says with a nervous sigh.

"Today?" She asks in a small disappointed voice. "So soon?"

"Christopher and I want to try something and to do that she has to attempt to get a sort of rush put on my orders. And if it doesn't go the way I want then...yeah. Could be today," he says as he reaches over and pulls her into his side.

"But you and I just...I mean we _just_ started to figure this out…"

"I know," he replies. "But this is a risk worth taking, Lucy. If it works, then it could mean _more_ _time_ for us to figure it out."

Her eyes narrow on his thoughtfully while she rolls on to her side to face him. "If _what_ works?"

"I requested a transfer out of Delta Force." So much for playing it close to the chest until he gets his actual orders. He should have known that plan wouldn't work.

She gasps and swats at his bare chest in outrage. "Have you lost your mind? You—you can't give up Delta Force for me! You're too good, Wyatt."

Not the reaction he expected, but then when has Lucy Preston ever done what he expects her to do?

"You don't want me to stay?" He asks in concern.

"Of course I want you to stay," she answers immediately. "But I don't want you giving up a job you've worked hard at over me. What if you resent me for it later?"

He smiles softly at her and shakes his head. "Now who's lost their mind? Not gonna happen, babydoll."

"You don't know that," she disagrees.

"Yes, I do. Because I'm not transferring from Delta Force for you. I'm doing it for me," he explains. "Delta Force was great for me when I wanted to get lost for awhile. I could lose myself in it because I had nothing connecting me to the world — no home. That's not the case any more. I have Rufus. I have Christopher." With each name he leans closer to her lips, smirking the entire time. He's teasing her and based on her eyerolls, she knows it. "Jiya—"

"Okay, okay, just skip to my name, will you?" She asks with feigned frustration.

"But you said that I shouldn't—"

"Smart ass," she declares with a laugh. "I just want to support you doing whatever it is _you _want to do. Not what you think _I_ want you to do."

"I know that," he says as he slips his arms around her waist and settles his hands on her back. They're laying on their sides, chest to chest, and he _loves _it. "And what I want is to transfer to Special Projects at DHS and help Christopher finish off Rittenhouse. All while staying close _to you_."

The smile she gives him rivals only the sun for it's brightness. "Well, then...coincidentally, what makes you happy makes me _very_ happy."

"We still have to wait for the official order though," he reminds her. "The higher ups could already have something else in mind for me."

She shakes her head at him. "It'll work out. We've had too much bad luck lately. We're due for this string of good luck to continue. I wouldn't go so far as to say we're _owed_ it but…" she scrunches up her nose in a playfully thoughtful expression (that he finds entirely too cute) and shrugs. "We did save the world so…**.**"

He chuckles at her. "Mhm. You're saying because we saved the world, we deserve to wake up like this more often? Is that what you're saying?"

She kisses his shoulder and nods. "Exactly. Plus, you look so comfy, and cuddle-able. Morning you is adorable. I missed him."

She brings a hand up and traces a line over his bicep, his throat, his jaw, and then finally runs her slender fingers through his hair. It's reminiscent of waking up with her in Hollywood and he's struck by serene fulfillment. He'd yearned to have her back for a long time. He thought he'd lost _this_ forever. But here she is. Here they _both_ are. Battered and bruised but somehow _stronger_ together than ever before.

"And morning _you_ is very handsy," he tells her with a smug grin. "I definitely missed her too."

"You know, I have been very nice to you both times we've shared a bed. I never hogged the blankets. I didn't drool all over you or snore like a freight train and you repay me by calling me _handsy_?"

He could get used to bantering with her every morning. He's enjoying this light and frisky side of her. "Handsy is a _good thing_, Professor. I'll happily wake up with your hands all over me every morning from here on out."

She blushes and lets out a short bark of laughter that's as enchanting as it is charming. "Okay, fine. You win. I'll share the blankets with you."

"Thank God cause you already took all the pillows," he fires back as he tugs on the corner of the scratchy throw pillow he was forced to sleep on.

"Oh, you want another pillow, sweetheart?" She asks with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I'll give you another pillow."

In one swift motion, more graceful than she's ever managed before, she pulls a pillow from behind her and smacks him in the face with it.

He bats the pillow away and focuses an exaggerated glare on her. "_That_ was a mistake, Preston."

In the next moment, they're wrestling around on the mattress like a couple of flirty teenagers. Her booming laugh echoes through the room as he finally pins her underneath him, in a tangle of blanket and sheets.

"You, sir, have an unfair advantage," she tells him as he secures her wrists above her head.

"And _you_ are not as clumsy as you led me to believe, ma'am."

"Might be because I'm naked and there's no risk of tripping over a skirt," she says as she wraps her legs around his waist.

Not that he needed the reminder, but it sets fire to his veins all the same. She must sense that the switch has flipped from impish to sensual because as her eyes find his she grinds herself slowly against him. He groans and tilts his head back. His entire body tenses and then runs hot and cold.

Her curses when she does it again and releases her wrists to still her hips. "_Luce."_

Her hands find his face and yank his mouth down to hers. She tries to talk between deep, plundering kisses.

"You—" kiss. "—shortened—" two kisses. "—my name."

He moves his lips to the curve of her throat and speaks against the goosebumps rising across her skin. "Like it or hate it?"

Her hand skims along his side and then further downward to wrap around his hardness as it's pressed to her wet center.

"_Love_ it," she answers while she pumps him once and then slides her thumb over his tip.

"Fuck, _Luce_," he moans.

When he repeats her shortened name she guides him to her. "You were right," she says through a whimper as he thrusts all the way inside of her. "Best. Christmas. Ever."

Until next year, he thinks. Or the year after that. And all the Christmases after _that. _

He intends to keep her company for _many_ years to come. Through hard decisions, bantery mornings, and all the sexy pillow fights they can manage.

* * *

**A/N: **Prompts used:

38 - Have you lost your mind?

72 - You look so comfy, and cuddle-able.

43 - I'll share the blankets with you.


	8. Sacred New Beginnings

**A/N: **a lot of the early one shots were from Lucy's POV so now prepare yourselves for a LOT of Wyatt POV. I love writing from his POV but I usually go with Lucy because she underestimates herself so much that it allows for very wrong interpretations of events. Now that we're past needing that as much, I get to write Wyatt again lol. YAY!

Not exactly sure where this one is going but hopefully it leads us somewhere significant. I'm working without a plan on this one.

Here we go!

Angellwings

* * *

Sacred New Beginnings

By angellwings

* * *

"'I rent a place on Cornelia Street',

I say casually in the car.

We were a fresh page on the desk,

Filling in the blanks as we go,

As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead,

Leading us home."

-"Cornelia Street" by Taylor Swift

* * *

By 0900 hours on Christmas Day his Army duffel is packed with anything he doesn't want to leave behind. Not everything he'd acquired over the last three months would fit in his bag, but he made sure to take the important things. Important, in this case, meaning sentimental.

Yes, that's right. Wyatt Logan is a huge fucking sap.

Toiletries were tossed out in favor of a red not-so-vintage Old Navy jacket, a pair of old Army sweats, and a bow tie stolen from a 1940s screen used tuxedo. He can buy toiletries once he gets out of the bunker. He can't replace memories.

Lucy's duffle is sitting next to his by their bedroom door. Hers is much larger and a vibrant green paisley print. She's been in the Bunker six weeks less than him and somehow she's walking away with more stuff. Including, he notices, a blue flannel something peeking out of the edge of her duffle's zipper.

Looks like he's not the only sap in the relationship.

The bed has been stripped of linens, leaving the two of them sitting on a thin plastic covered mattress. It's strange to think they only shared the room for one night. It honestly feels like it's _theirs._

Lucy threads her fingers through his and leans into his side. He feels her chin on his shoulder for a few minutes before she finally speaks.

"Congratulations on the transfer, by the way. I never got a chance to tell you earlier."

"Thank you," He replies. "I'm really looking forward to sticking around."

"And finishing off Rittenhouse?" She asks knowingly.

"Finishing the job we started is definitely a perk. But you know what else is a perk?" He turns his head to meet her eyes with a crooked grin. She raises her brows expectantly while she waits for him to continue. "_You_. Being able to keep seeing you on a regular basis."

"That's a perk for both of us," she agrees with a teeth baring smile.

He squeezes her hand and gives her a quick chaste kiss.

"So," he says. "What's next for Professor Preston?"

"You know," she says as she takes a deep contemplative breath. "I have no damn clue. And I'm kind of pumped about it. For the first time in my life, there's no five year plan. There's not even a one year plan or a one _month_ plan. I'm not confined by anyone else's idea of who I should be and it's..._liberating_. But also _terrifying_."

He brings the back of her hand to his lips and then squeezes it. "Whatever you decide to do, you'll be exceptional at it. I'm sure of it."

The cars arrive to take them all home a few minutes later. Mason's is taking him to his penthouse Christopher managed to hold for him, Rufus and Jiya are headed out to see Rufus's mom and brother, and their car is supposed to drop Lucy off at her mom's and then take him on to his place.

But when they pull up outside the house, Lucy freezes. He can't say he's surprised. He knows, as well as she does, that the last time she was there she was stolen from everything that was familiar to her. Since then, nothing in her life has been the same. Some of it ended up being a good kind of different but most of it left her heartbroken. There are ghosts inside of that house she'll have to face eventually but doing it today, on top of everything they'd faced in the last week, is not necessary.

As always, though, he'll follow her lead. If she wants to start cleaning those skeletons out of those particular closets _today _then he'll support her. Hell, he'll get down in the dirt with her if she wants. He's got a lot more practice digging up skeletons than she does.

"I—I can't go in there," she tells him with a watery glance. "Not today."

She gives him a pleading look as if asking him not to beg an explanation from her. He doesn't need to hear a reason. He understands more than she knows and has no intention of making her do anything. Not that he ever would.

If she doesn't want to go in that house she certainly doesn't have to.

"I rent a place not far from here," he offers. "It's not anything fancy but you're welcome to it."

She nods eagerly and throws herself at him, crushing him in a signature Lucy Preston hug while tears stick in her throat. "_Thank you_. Yes."

He returns the embrace and keeps his arms around her, pleased when she leans further into him. Hopefully, it's a sign of things to come and she'll start to lean on him emotionally again. She's gotten so used to keeping her distance that he knows it'll be a hard habit to break.

When they arrive, the agent that drove walks to the apartment with them. He's under orders to clear the place room by room before he leaves them. When the door swings open, Wyatt realizes the agent won't be there long.

The apartment is empty.

There's nothing to search so clearing a vacant space should be quick and easy.

His brow furrows. "Where's all my stuff?"

"In storage," the agent says as they step inside. "The landlord wanted to sublet the place so Agent Christopher had your things moved out." A key is dropped into Wyatt's hand as the agent moves on to clear the next room. "That's the key to your storage unit," he calls over his shoulder.

Lucy takes in the hardwood floors and plain white walls with a grin. "Well, on the bright side, now you have plenty of space."

"Yes, because there's not a single piece of furniture left. What are we supposed to do tonight? Sleep on the floor?" He asks her.

She chuckles and shrugs. "We've had worse."

He grunts a response that sounds like an agreement but the sentiment rankles him. They're in the present. The time travel is behind them. They shouldn't have to deal with sleeping on hard surfaces and doing without the comforts of home. Not anymore.

The agent gives the place the all clear and leaves. Now, it's up to Wyatt and Lucy to improvise. He doesn't like it, but he knows there's no one else he'd rather improvise with than Lucy.

"She could have told me my apartment was empty," Wyatt grumbles as he paces across the bare floors.

"This morning was so busy that it probably slipped her mind," Lucy reminds him. "But it's okay, Wyatt. Think of it like camping — just indoors with running water and air conditioning. So...you know, _better_," she says, chuckling at herself, as she loops her arm through his. "Our first non-time travel adventure."

He snorts derisively and shakes his head. "If only this first adventure included a _bed_." A sigh escapes him as he places a kiss to Lucy's cheek. "I have a small storage space in the basement. I'll go see if Christopher emptied that too. If there's anything in it then I'll see if any of it is actually _useful_."

"Okay," she agrees with a sharp nod. "While you're gone I'll try to find places that are open on Christmas in case we need to buy supplies or groceries."

He leaves with heavier steps than he intends and closes the door with too much force. He had more possessions living in the bunker then he has in his own apartment. It's _aggravating. _

He stomps down the stairs to his fenced off storage space in the basement. Thankfully, it is _not_ empty. He grins for the first time since opening his apartment door as he rummages through it. Lucy's comparison earlier turns out to be more accurate than he thought it would be…

Because all that's left in his storage space is _camping gear_.

He returns upstairs a half hour later and drops two sleeping bags and a deflated air mattress at Lucy's feet.

He smirks. "You did say to think of it like camping, didn't you?"

She laughs and wraps her arms around him. For a moment he feels like the day hasn't actually been that bad.

The air mattress has a built in pump so Wyatt gets to work on that while Lucy shakes out the sleeping bags. Once that's done, Lucy zips the two sleeping bags together and lays them on top of the double sized inflated mattress.

"That's one problem solved. We have a bed," she states with her hands on her hips as they observe their handiwork. "Now for the next problem: food and supplies."

"Anything open?" He asks as they approach his kitchen counter where her laptop sits. Thank fuck the wireless modem and router were left behind. That's something, at least.

"Well, it seems our choices are 7-Eleven and Walgreens. Walgreens closes their doors at around two, 7-Eleven is open all day."

He scowls, his moment of hope now officially behind him. "So, beef jerky for Christmas dinner then?"

She gives him half of a grin and rolls her eyes. "Not quite. There are a few places that will deliver or let us order carry out. Do you still have a car for a supply run?"

"Christopher gave me my car keys with my house keys so I would assume, yes," he answers with an irritated huff. "Unless she also rented out my Jeep and forgot to mention it."

"Oh my god, Wyatt, stop being such a man-baby," Lucy admonishes with a quiet chuckle. "I mean, really, aren't you Delta Force guys used to roughing it?"

"Just because I'm used to it doesn't mean I _want_ to," he says as he digs his car keys out of his pocket.

She shakes her head and shoves him toward the door with a bemused expression. "Let's go, Grumpy Gus. You need toilet paper and I need wine."

His Jeep is parked in his reserved spot. Not only is it in excellent condition, but someone also filled the tank. If only DHS had been that considerate about his apartment then he and Lucy wouldn't be spending their first night back in the world on a glorified pool float. Maybe that's what irks him the most. Once the offer was made for Lucy to come home with him, he had some grand idea that their first Christmas together would be spent somewhere comfortable or that, even if his place is small, it would at least be more luxurious than the Bunker.

That idea has been completely dashed. _Repetitively_.

This is the only "first Christmas" they're going to have and they're going to spend it buying toilet paper and cheap wine from _Walgreens_? Only to then order some sort of crappy take out and fall asleep on an _air mattress_? He knows none of this is his fault but he already feels as if he's let her down somehow.

They've barely been out of the bunker an hour and he's already failed.

Fan-_fucking_-tastic.

"You okay over there?" Lucy asks, her eyes never leaving her phone's GPS.

It's only been 3 months since they've been underground but everything seems to have moved and without the GPS they both know they'd get lost. Yet another reason to be pissed off. They lost so much time in that damn bunker. How the hell do they get that back?

"Peachy," he answers through a tense jaw.

Lucy looks up at the sound of his voice and quirks one brow at him with an exasperated sigh.

"Park here," she says as she points to a spot along the sidewalk.

"We still have five miles—"

"Park _here_, Wyatt," she insists, effectively cutting off anything he might have said.

He knows that tone well enough by now to shut up and do as he's told. He wordlessly pulls over and parks, but refuses to look at her. His sullen mood has probably ruined the day even further. Go figure. He should have seen it coming.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asks as she angles herself toward him. "And _don't_ say nothing. I know better. Your jaw is locked, your hands have a death grip on the wheel, and you refuse to look me in the eye. So, either you're upset with yourself or I've done something and if it's the latter—"

He winces through another wave of guilt and interrupts her. "It's not you, Lucy. Believe me, it's not."

He never meant to give her that impression and it hurts him to imagine she's spent the day thinking he's mad _at her. _It piles on top of the guilt he's already feeling.

"Then what is it?" She asks, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"This isn't working out like I imagined," he admits with a hopeless exhale.

Lucy's brow furrows and alarm flashes across her amber eyes. "What does _that_ mean? _This_ as in…?"

The "_us"_ is implied as her sentence trails off and it sends panic shooting through him from head to toe. "No, Lucy. Not—Jesus, I'm an asshole. _Christmas_. I mean _Christmas_. God, definitely not _us_. Shit, I'm sorry."

Her relief is palpable and changes the atmosphere in the car completely.

"You're upset about how our day is going?" She asks in confusion.

"It's not just a _day_. It's Christmas. Our first one together. We only get one of those," he tells her. "And I'm ruining it—okay, maybe not _ruining _it but I'm certainly not making it a day to remember."

Her features soften and the color of her eyes warms to cinnamon. He thinks he reads amusement in them. "Out of curiosity, exactly how did you imagine this day going?"

"Well, I _imagined_ furniture, at the very least."

She bites her bottom lip to hold back a grin. "As one often does."

He feels the corners of his mouth twitch as he playfully narrows his eyes on her. Her good humor is catching. "Do you find this _funny_?"

"You mean you _don't_?" Lucy asks with the faintest trace of a laugh. "Come on, we get out of a rusted tin can expecting a real mattress and possibly a plush sofa only to find bare walls and a lot of open space. We whined for months about getting out of the bunker and it turns out we had more furniture in our bedroom in the bunker than you have in your _entire _apartment. _That _is funny. It's funny because it would _only_ happen to us. I think we should know by now to throw our expectations out the window because life is always going to throw curveballs at us, good _or_ bad. But at least it's you and me." She squeezes his shoulder before she finishes her thought. "_We've_ got plenty of practice swinging at those curveballs."

Truer words have never been spoken. All they've gotten is curveballs. One right after the other. They've managed to survive them so far by being there for each other. Even when one of them, himself specifically, is a moody little bitch.

"You're not disappointed?" He asks her warily. "Really? Or mad at me? Or _anything_?"

"I was annoyed by your attitude, I'll admit. But now I get it, and I promise we're okay. Next time, though, try using words to express yourself first, okay?"

He nods and then grabs one of her hands to place a kiss on her palm. "Okay."

"And disappointed? Wyatt, I'm here with _you_. What you said this morning applies to me too," she tells him as she laces her fingers through his. "I have everything I need. _Right here._ We can stumble through life without time travel for years to come and I will never be disappointed. Honestly, we may be approaching one of the most awkward and emotional seasons of our lives but as long as we're together...well, then I hope it never ends. I'd rather be awkward and emotional with you then polished and put together with anyone else. New beginnings are never easy, but at least we're not starting over alone."

"I don't know if I could do this without you, Luce," Wyatt admits hoarsely as his emotions overwhelm him. Everything she said is exactly how he feels.

"I don't think I could do this without _you_ either," she responds, releasing his hand to run her fingers through his hair.

They're not going to get it right a hundred percent of the time and life is messy. He can't put pressure on himself to be perfect. He'll spend all his time too angry at himself to enjoy what he's been given. He would end up taking it all for granted — taking _Lucy_ for granted — and that would be the surest way to lose everything.

He doesn't ever want to lose her. He _needs_ her. He leans into her hand as it cards through his hair and then comes back to rest on his cheek.

"We'll figure out the apartment," she assures him, her warm voice soothes him like the coziest blanket. "Tomorrow we'll go see what's in storage and what you need and we'll work it out. I promise. Maybe this is a good thing. You get to go through it all and decide what's worth keeping and what needs to be let go. A fresh start on a new page. Like getting a new apartment without having to actually go apartment hunting."

"Not exactly the ideal situation for _Christmas_, though," he tells her with a weak smile.

"There's always next year," she states before sealing a lingering kiss against his lips. Her expression is full of love and affection when she pulls back to meet his eyes again. "Maybe we won't have another _first_ Christmas but I have a feeling our second Christmas will be just as memorable."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, resisting the urge to pull her in for another kiss. "Why's that?"

"Because it's _us _and I've never forgotten a single thing we've been through together — even if for a short while I wished I could. That's not going to change anytime soon." Her hands smooth over his hair and then his stubble, finally stopping to straighten his shirt collar. "A year from now, we'll look back at this and laugh. Trust me."

He nods with a determined expression. "I do trust you. Completely."

"Good, then let's get back to it," she orders as she leans back in her seat and pulls the GPS back up. She tosses him a wink as he starts the car. "I need boxed wine and a plastic cup to drink it in. Forward march, soldier."

He laughs as he leans across the seat to press his lips to her temple. God, he loves her.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies dutifully.

He pulls back out onto the road in a much better mood than he started. Thanks to Lucy. He's not sure how she does it, but she somehow always knows exactly what to say or what to do to reach him. He knows she's right. They're about to enter a phase full of awkwardness and strong emotions, but he's excited about it now. He's ready to get this show on the road because he _knows_ them. He knows they'll make it. They have to.

They'll work through it all _together_ in the same way they'll redecorate his apartment _together_. They'll rediscover the flaws — the creaky floorboards, the leaky pipes, the scuffs on the walls — and one by one they'll repair them all. They'll make something impressive out of the hand they've been dealt.

They always do.

Hopefully, they always _will_.


	9. Follow the Sparks

**A/N: **It's 1 AM but I did it! YAY! Okay, so this might be my favorite Lover series one shot so far. Be warned, it's long (over 10k words). And also, HERE BE SMUT. So, if you're reading at work or on a bus or a subway...maybe turn your brightness down somewhere around December 29th, 2018 (you'll see what I mean). ;)

I hope this makes up for my inadvertently being away so long! I took a vacation and then a lot of other things snuck up on me once I got back. Thank you guys so much for your support and patience!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - I did a very quick once over for typos and errors but seeing as it's 1 AM and I'm tired, it's highly likely I missed a few. Please forgive me. My eyes are definitely not fresh at this point.

PPS - I FINALLY USED THE LAST OF MY PROMPTS FROM THE PROMPT GAME. See the note at the end for the prompts used.

* * *

Follow the Sparks

by angellwings

* * *

"I think he knows,

When we get all alone,

I'll make myself at home,

And he'll want me to stay.

I think he knows,

He better lock it down,

Or I won't stick around,

'Cause good ones never wait."

-"I Think He Knows" by Taylor Swift

* * *

_New Years Eve, 2018_

He knows exactly what he's doing to her. He _has_ to. How dare he stand there with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his hands around a cold glass of some quirky local brew.

His very masculine and _capable_ hands. The same hands that were very nearly under her dress on the car ride over. This is the first time she's been invited to spend New Years Eve out with friends in a couple of years and yet all she wants to do is get Wyatt alone. What is he doing to her?

She swallows thickly and takes a long sip of her wine. She really shouldn't be staring at him from across the room. It's weird and a bit creepy. She knows it is but she can't seem to stop.

"Alright," Jiya says with a smirk, snapping Lucy out of her lustful trance. "I'm beginning to understand why Rufus and I haven't seen either one of you since Christmas."

"What?" Lucy asks with a furrowed brow.

"You _reek_ of sex," Jiya tells her with a light laugh. "And the eye fucking is basically nonstop too. I mean the amount of times the two of you have managed to make eye contact across Christopher's living room is astounding. I always suspected you guys had a sixth sense for each other but _come on_."

Lucy's eyes widen as she shoots Jiya a silencing glare. "I do not _reek of sex_."

Jiya snorts derisively. "You do. You really do. Not that I blame you. Things between the two of you sizzled under the surface for so long that an explosion was bound to happen."

Lucy opens her mouth to reply to Jiya (with what words she's not sure) but she never gets the chance. Someone else interrupts.

"Professor Preston?" A young voice asks.

Lucy turns to the voice and finds the familiar face of a former student. "Oh, hello! Um, Harper, isn't it?"

"Yes! I was in your class when you took leave. That was such a big class. I wasn't sure you'd remember," Harper replies bashfully.

"You applied for a TA position with me. We had a very lengthy conversation during your interview. That's hard to forget," Lucy assures her. In fact, she planned to hire her for the next semester but then Flynn stole the Mothership and any and all plans blew away in the aftermath.

"I did! I was so disappointed to not have anymore classes with you. I didn't see you on this coming semester's class register either," Harper says as she forms a small circle with Lucy and Jiya. Obviously deciding to stay for a while.

"Oh, yes, I just got back. I didn't get back in time to rejoin the staff for this semester," she explains.

"Speaking of your leave," Harper says as she leans forward with a conspiratory whisper. "Where did you go all of a sudden? No one would tell us where you were. One kid even started a rumor that you were abducted by some freaky cult."

Lucy and Jiya share a startled look. That rumor is too close to the truth.

"I did a little consulting work for Homeland Security and then took some time to research my next book topic. Trust me. It wasn't anything as exciting or dangerous as an abduction," Lucy lies.

"Oh! Small world! My fiance starts work with Homeland next week! Is that how you know Denise Christopher?" At Lucy's nod, Harper continues. "Rob is going to be an analyst for her team." She turns and points to the younger man Wyatt and Rufus have been chatting with for most of the evening. "That's him. Isn't he cute?"

"Wow! And now the world is even smaller," Jiya adds with a mischievous grin. "Turns out your fiance is going to be working with Lucy's boyfriend."

"Noah?" Harper asks in confusion. "Isn't he a doctor?"

_Awkward_.

"Um, no. Noah and I broke up," Lucy answers. "My, uh, boyfriend—" if that's what Wyatt's called now. "—Is Wyatt Logan. The gruff looking guy with the blue eyes next to Rob."

"Oh! _Oh. _I never would have thought—I mean, no offense or anything, but I never would have thought he'd be your type," Harper tells her nervously. "He's very...rough around the edges and Noah..._wasn't_."

Noah wasn't a lot of things that Wyatt _is_ so Lucy understands Harper's point but _Harper_ doesn't know Wyatt. This won't be the only reaction like this she'll face. She's aware of that, but it is the _first_ reaction of someone from her old life. She and Wyatt have been in their own little bubble from Christmas to New Years. She wants to stay there a little longer.

People in her academic circle likely won't understand. To them, it will appear that Lucy left Noah for Wyatt. It's not the truth but no one knows the real truth except for a very small circle of people. She'll have to learn to live with that perception.

"My _type_ was overrated," Lucy answers.

"Right, okay," Harper says with a confused expression. She must not know what to do with that information because Harper changes the subject. "So, what all have you been up to since you came back to town?"

"Yeah, Lucy," Jiya says with a goading grin. "What all have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing much, really," Lucy replies with a secretive smile. "Just settling back in."

* * *

_December 26th, 2018_

"Ready to go full Kondo?" Lucy asks as Wyatt turns the lock on his storage unit.

"Full what now?" He replies with a bewildered face.

"Kondo. Marie Kondo? Organization goddess and tidying up extraordinaire?" Lucy prods with a shocked expression. "Seriously? She's _everywhere_."

"Yeah, well, I've been a little preoccupied with time travel and the end of the world so—"

She rolls her eyes at this teasing grin and slaps his arm. "Smartass."

"Alright, I'll bite. What does going full Kondo entail?" He asks as he pockets the open lock and reaches for the bottom handle of the door.

"It's easy," Lucy reassures him. "You just get rid of the physical things that no longer bring you joy. Simple, right?"

"Deceptively so," Wyatt says warily as he pulls the sliding door upward. "But what do you do if a lot of things just happen to bring you joy?"

Lucy turns to look at his half empty storage unit, filled mostly with the necessities and chuckles. "By the looks of it, that's not a problem you have, soldier."

"I don't know," he says as he places his hands on his hips with a sigh. "Marie Kondo may have something. Not a lot of this stuff brings me joy. It's all pretty…"

His sentence trails off and Lucy finishes it for him. "Boring?"

"I was gonna say basic but okay," Wyatt replies with a laugh. "Don't spare my feelings, Professor."

She bites her bottom lip with a sheepish expression. "Sorry."

He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against him with a warm smile. "Don't apologize. The honestly is nice. Besides, you're right. Boring is for sure a better description. It wouldn't hurt to pick out some new pieces for the apartment."

"Really?" Lucy asks with a suspicious quirk of her brow. "You don't seem like the type to volunteer for change."

He lifts one shoulder casually and focus his indigo gaze on her. "I don't know, after the last few months a fresh start sounds pretty damn good to me."

"Me too," Lucy agrees. "As soon as I clear out my mom's house, that is. Until then my fresh start is gonna be delayed a bit."

"If you need any help with that—"

"Thank you," she says as she kisses his lips quickly. "But I've got it. Promise."

Or _eventually_ she'll get it. Someday. When she's ready to face both her mother and Amy and the variety of ways she failed them. That someday is not today. Today, she'll distract herself with _Wyatt_. Honestly, there's no better distraction.

"Now," Lucy says as she pulls out of his embrace and turns back to the storage unit. "Let's put the bare bones of what you need in the truck. The bed frame, the mattress, and the boxspring are a must and then whatever else you still want to keep around."

"Coffee table, TV, entertainment center, and the boxes of personal items," Wyatt declares quickly. "Everything else can stay until I can donate it."

"Perfect," she says with a beaming smile. "And then..._shopping_."

"The way you said that makes me feel like I should be terrified right now," Wyatt tells her with raised brows.

"Let's just say that shopping for home goods is my...how would you say it? My A.O.?"

"Alright, if you're going to start speaking in military acronyms then we're never going to get any work done," Wyatt warns with a lopsided smirk as he snakes his arms around her again.

She bites her bottom lip and grins knowingly at him. "Well that would be a real SNAFU, wouldn't it?"

"You're about to get in over your head, Preston. You and those military terms are testing my restraint," he tells her as he sits down on his sofa and pulls her down with him.

Her eyes roam over him in his jeans and fitted red t-shirt. She loves the way the short sleeves hug his biceps. "Getting in over my head with you doesn't really _sound_ like a bad thing, Master Sergeant."

He presses her into the arm rest as his hand slips under the hem of her shirt to skim across her stomach. His lips land on her neck and kiss a heated trail over her skin until he covers her lips with his.

She whimpers into the kiss and brings her hands up to comb through his hair and gently scrape over his stubble. Just as she reaches for the bottom of his shirt to pull it up and over his head, they hear the main door into the storage facility slam shut.

They break apart as if they've already been caught, with flushed startled faces, and then listen to footsteps as they fade away in the opposite direction. Their identical silent states of worry simultaneously explode into hysterical fits of laughter.

"Probably not the best place for a make out session," Lucy tells him accusingly.

"Then don't say things like A.O. and then use my rank against me. You _know_ exactly what that does to me, ma'am," he says with a playful yet serious glare. "_You know_."

She decides to play with fire a little longer and slides her hands under his t-shirt to feel the hard muscles on his chest. "Yeah, well, you're the one who wore this shirt. It looks to perfect on you. It fits too snuggly. I mean leave a little to my imagination, will you?"

"I wasn't aware that wearing a t-shirt was a turn on," Wyatt replies with a mix of arousal and amusement. He places his hands over her wrists and then pulls her hands out of his shirt. "Please stop or I'll end up risking a lot more than publically getting us to second base."

"Fine," she says with a huff and only a half feigned look of frustration. "And of course you weren't aware that a t-shirt is a good look for you. You know, on some level, you're attractive but you have no idea what makes you that way. Like wearing a t-shirt or knowing four languages or your shoulder holster or rolling up—"

His eyes widen along with his grin. "My shoulder holster?"

"Yes," Lucy admits with a blush. "Your shoulder holster."

"And speaking four languages? Really?"

"Hi, I'm _me_. Knowledge is sexy," Lucy replies with a teasing eye roll. Really, that should be the least surprising of all of them.

"Wow, Rufus must be irresistible to you then," Wyatt says with a smirk.

"Oh, yes, trust me if it weren't for Jiya you'd be out on the curb, pal," she deadpans as a corner of her mouth barely tugs upward.

"Always good to know exactly where I stand," he tells her with a muted chuckle.

"Rest assured, though, Rufus has no ability to pull off the shoulder holster. That's a talent exclusive to Wyatt Logan," she says with a wink as she stands from the couch and grabs his hands to pull him to his feet.

He wipes his brow in an exaggerated gesture and puffs out a purposely strained breath. "That's a relief."

Once they're both standing they reach for a piece of his bed frame.

"Let's get this over with. I'd like for us to get home sooner rather than later and enjoy an actual bed tonight," Wyatt tells her with a wicked grin.

"Sounds like you've got something up your sleeve," Lucy says curiously with a sultry glance.

He smirks and nods slowly before he replies. "Let's just say I know exactly where my shoulder holster is and, if I'm following Marie Kondo's advice, it's definitely sticking around. I'm thinking it's about to bring me _a lot _of joy."

She blushes and laughs as she positions herself around the back of the frame. Normally, her fantasies would stay locked up tight. She never trusted Jonas with them and she barely knew Noah, but Wyatt is different. He's always been different. So instead of hiding, she grins through her slight embarrassment and meets his heated gaze with her own.

"You and me both, Logan," she replies.

"How about we make a trade," he proposes as he stops in front of his end of the bed frame. "I wear the shoulder holster...and you wear that blazer you have with the suede elbow patches. _Only_ the blazer with the elbow patches."

Her mouth drops open in surprise and she feels her cheeks flush. "You like the elbow patches? You're kidding, right? You have to be."

His closed lip smile turns sinful as he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "I would never joke about those elbow patches. Honestly, never knew I had a sexy professor kink until you came along, Preston. So," he says as he brings them back to the topic at hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"No way am I passing up on a deal like this. Of course we have a deal. Besides, how else are we going to celebrate sharing a real bed for the first time in _months_?"

They reach across the bed frame to shake on it and then get to work. There's too much at stake to waste any more time.

* * *

_December 27th, 2018_

She wakes up to find his shoulder holster hanging from the corner of his new headboard and her blazer laying haphazardly across the old wooden bench at the foot of the bed. Both furniture pieces are new to Wyatt's apartment and a result of yesterday's shopping.

She learned a lot of things about Wyatt yesterday. Little details. Like the fact that his coffee table is an original piece constructed by his Grandpa Sherwin. It's made of wood reclaimed from an old barn. It has an old faded ad for Dr. Pepper painted on the underside, multiple scuffs, and lots of drink rings on its surface but somehow it doesn't look like junk. It looks..._well loved_.

It looks like it belongs anywhere Wyatt is.

She helped him make it the focal point of his living room. The side tables are the same level of distressed and rustic, the curtains are the same color of deep red as the Dr. Pepper ad, and the armchair in the living room has scuffs in the leather to match the scuffs on the table.

She wanted to make sure Wyatt liked it but she had no idea how much she'd like it too by the time they finished. He still needs a few things like night stands in the bedroom, hangers for his closets, a hamper or two, and _art_. His walls are so empty that it's almost depressing. No amount of decorations can cover up a lack of photos and art. They'll need to sort that out as soon as possible.

The warm body her head is currently resting on groans tiredly and then adjusts to coil around her — interrupting her mental to-do list.

When they first met, she never would have thought of Wyatt as a cuddler. She obviously thought wrong. Not that she's complaining. She much prefers waking up in his arms to literally anything else.

Anything else as in the chore she's been putting off for two days now: stepping inside her mother's house for the first time since Rittenhouse took her.

She needs to get started on cleaning it out. She wants to sell it and wash her hands of her mother's legacy forever. Though, that's not completely realistic. Carol Preston's legacy will always be waiting for her at Stanford. Getting rid of the house won't stop that.

She's just woken up but already she feels emotionally spent. She feels exhausted all the time. It's almost like time travel jet lag or as if her soul is weary from all the heartbreaking whiplash. The last thing she wants is to expose herself to more hurt and tears. Honestly, she wishes she could stay hidden away in Wyatt's apartment for at least a month.

She worries she'll never feel energized again or that all of her mental stamina was spent fighting Rittenhouse. Those worries force her to puff out a hopeless sigh. Will anything in a world ignorant of time travel ever feel safe or normal again?

Calluses trace a line up and down the column of her spine, pulling her attention to the concerned deep blue gaze of her companion.

His other hand rises and pointedly brushes her temple as he speaks. "What's going on up here, Professor? You're thinking awfully loud."

She shakes her head at him and tightens her arms around his middle. "It's nothing. Just thinking about how long my to-do list has gotten."

He quirks a brow at her and when it falls his eyes narrow suspiciously. "That sigh was about a to-do list?"

"Among other things. Don't worry about it," she assures him. "I'm fine."

"Last time you told me it was 'fine' that wasn't the entire truth," he replies worriedly.

Guilt swells in her chest, but she stays the course. She's simply not ready to let reality into his apartment just yet. "This isn't _that_," she promises. "We're passed that."

But they're not passed other obstacles. Not yet.

He looks as though he wants to push the issue but he doesn't. He simply nods and drops a kiss on her that's lost somewhere in her hair.

"So, do you need any help with this to-do list?" He asks.

She wants to ask him for help, but another part of her wants him as far away from her emotional turmoil as possible. She isn't used to letting people see her emotions. Not even Amy got the full picture of how Lucy felt at any given moment. She gave a few small pieces to a select group of people but no one person ever had enough pieces to put them all together.

She made that mistake with her mother and Carol Preston was sure to use it all against her every day of her life. She would never give anyone else that sort of power over her ever again.

"No, that's okay," she answers with a forced smile. "But I appreciate the offer."

Secretly, she would like him there to lean on if she needs it but she can't bring herself to let him in. She's too afraid of what will happen if she does. The last time she leaned on him he was ripped away from her. Relying on anyone else for solace or comfort is just too damn risky.

She hates herself for feeling that way, but she's not equipped to push passed it right now.

Again, he looks as if he might try to prod her into talking about it. She braces herself for it, but in the end he only flashes her half of a grin before speaking.

"Right, well, then I guess we'd better find some breakfast and start the day," he says as he squeezes her bare waist and playfully winks at her. "If we end every day like yesterday then we may need to adjust our caloric intake."

She's laughs for the first time that morning and feels a few of her insecurities float away. A brightness she's never really known replaces them. That brightness feels almost as refreshing as a hot cup of coffee.

Speaking of…

"Coffee first," she insists. "Then food."

"Your wish is my command, Preston," Wyatt says with a warm chuckle. "Caffeine coming right up."

She feels him gently nip at her shoulder before he pushes off the bed to stand. The bed immediately feels cold and empty. She hates it.

She follows him out of bed and raids his closet for one of his flannels. His eyes rake over her slowly as she fastens each button.

"If you keep wearing my shirts then I won't be able to wear any of them without thinking about your legs peeking out from under them," he warns. His normally bright blue gaze has darkened to a deep indigo due to the way his eyes have dilated in desire.

"That's sort of the point," she replies with a challenging smirk.

He shakes his head at her in amusement. "That's..._diabolical_ and completely unfair."

Her smirk widens into a closed lip smile as she shrugs carelessly. "All's _fair_ in love and war, Wyatt."

And they'd always lived with a little bit of both.

Wyatt makes pancakes and eggs while Lucy flirts with him across the breakfast bar. He's an excellent distraction from the day ahead of her and she plans to indulge in him as much as possible. Eventually, though, she's showered and changed and has no reason to delay any longer.

As she reaches the door, Wyatt hands her a travel mug full of coffee and kisses her slowly. He lets the spark of chemistry between them sizzle for as long as he can. That spark both soothes and excites. She's not sure how, but with one kiss her nerves have calmed and her motivation has spiked. Facing the ghosts of her family doesn't feel as daunting as it did just moments ago.

When he pulls away, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I've got to go to the storage unit later today," he tells her. "I called the local Habitat for Humanity. They're coming to pick up the things that we left behind yesterday." He presses a key into the palm of her hand. "My spare. In case I'm not here when you get back."

The jagged metal edge of the key burns against her skin. His key? He—he gave a key? Is that supposed to mean something or is he just being considerate? She should ask, but the question sticks in her throat.

She manages to stutter out an awkward "Th-thanks."

If he thinks anything of her lack of a response he doesn't show it. She raises up slightly to kiss his cheek and then bolts out the door. What does it all mean? Does it mean anything? Does she want it to mean something? Is she overthinking it?

Probably. She overthinks a lot of things.

Some good does come of her confusion. It distracts her through the cab ride to her mother's. She doesn't even register they've arrived until the driver loudly clears his throat.

She swallows thickly as she sticks the key into the lock. For a moment, she forgets herself and debates calling Amy for help. And then she remembers…

Amy doesn't exist.

Her eyes water as the latch turns and the door opens. Eerie _deafening_ silence greets her. There's no one there and, judging by the smell of stale air, hasn't been anyone there for _months_.

There's no Carol. No Amy. No family at all.

The place she called home for years no longer feels warm and welcoming. It's barren and desolate. She shivers through the slight December chill that's filled the home. No, not home — _house. _The title of home no longer suits. She finds the thermostat and turns it both on and up. Though, she doubts increasing the temperature will do anything to stop her shivers.

She lingers in the foyer for far too long just..._staring_. She's frozen in a panic.

The house may not have changed in her absence but it feels completely foreign.

She has no idea how to begin.

She flips through the contacts in her phone on autopilot. She's not even aware she's doing it until she realizes her finger is hovering over Wyatt's name. She gasps and the soft noise fills the empty house. No. _No_. This is her problem. Not Wyatt's.

She fights the ache in her heart and shoves the phone into her pants pocket. There's power in vulnerability and leaning on anyone else has proved dangerous to her in the past. She will not fall into those traps again.

She takes a deep breath and runs a shaking hand over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. The memory of Wyatt telling her he was leaving her behind to save Jessica flashes across her memory unbidden. She sat on that bottom step and cried for twenty minutes after he left. She felt just as powerless then as she does now, only for vastly different reasons.

She decides to start with the bathrooms. She finds boxes in one of the hall closets and marches up the stairs to her old bathroom. She will not let this house defeat her.

Not after surviving a war with Rittenhouse.

The first hour or so is very cut and dry. She throws the dusty shower curtain and towels in the hamper and then fills the box with items that she intends to keep. She digs out a trash bag from under the sink and fills it with things that need to be tossed.

She's down to one last item before she can move on to the guest bathroom: an old teal and pink Caboodles case. She cracks a faint smile as she pulls it into her lap. She remembers buying this particular case. She used it until her mother insisted on buying her a nicer one. Lucy hadn't seen it since she handed it down to—

She can't bring herself to finish the thought.

Her breathing becomes labored as the memory of her little sister washes over her.

Amy usually hated hand-me-downs but she loved this one. She even took it with her when she moved into her college dorm and then on all her travels after graduation. Lucy used to tease her mercilessly about it, but Amy never cared. She said it reminded her of home. No matter where she was in the world she could look at that case and remember the people who loved her.

There's still someone in this world who loves Amy. The only difference is that Amy's no longer around to remember it, and Lucy's the only person who will ever remember _her._

Lucy stands with the case tight in a two handed grip. Rage and grief fill her well passed capacity. What did Amy ever do to deserve to disappear? Why didn't Lucy save her when she had the chance? What kind of person is she now that she's failed Amy so completely?

She's not really sure what happens after that. One moment she's holding the case in her hands and the next she's launching it down the stairs with as much force as she can manage — _sobbing and screaming_ louder than ever before. She comes back to herself as she watches the case bounce and crash it's way down the wooden staircase. With each hit it cracks until it lays in two busted halves on the foyer rug.

"No, no, no, no," she mutters as she races down the stairs to take stock of the damage.

The make up inside the case is everywhere. Eyeshadow pans have cracked and spread powder all over the hardwood. Old blush compacts have fallen open and trailed bright red across the rug. The mirror in the case shattered, leaving small shards in its wake.

It's a gigantic mess of her own making.

She settles on her knees in front of it and tries to salvage as much as she can, but halfway through she gives up and slinks back to sit on the stairs.

It's a lost cause. She's done too much damage, and now she's ruined one of the only physical memories of Amy she has left. She tries her damndest to strangle her tears by covering her face with her hands but it doesn't work. Now that they've started she can't make them stop.

The memory of her crying on the stairs from earlier in the day feels more relevant than ever. She's come full circle. She smashes her previous record of twenty minutes to pieces. When the tears finally dry up, the clock reads four in the afternoon. Her blood sugar is crashing and she desperately needs to rehydrate. She physically can _not_ spend another moment in her mother's house.

Originally, she debated spending the night in order to get more done, but now…

Now she craves _Wyatt_. She craves shelter and safety and warmth. She shouldn't want to run to him, but she does. She can't stop herself from needing him even when she refuses to let him see how the day has hurt her. And god dammit did it ever hurt her. The scars on her heart are old but they sting as if they're brand new.

What a waste of a day, she thinks dejectedly. If she felt depleted of energy before now the exhaustion in her _bones_.

She sniffles and wipes her face. She does her best to save her makeup using the mirror in the downstairs half bath. Once she looks presentable again, she ignores the mess in the foyer and heads straight for the garage.

Her car keys are inside her car, with the Department of Homeland Security evidence tag still on them. They must have swept her car for evidence after Rittenhouse took her. She closes her eyes tightly and shoves _that_ memory away. She's relived enough for one day.

On the drive back to Wyatt's she packs away the trauma of the day. She practices her answer when he inevitably asks her how it went. She needs him but she can't bring herself to confide in him. She's too tired to knock down those specific walls at the moment, but the guilt still plagues her. She should do something nice for him since he's letting her crash with him (since he gave her a key). She passes a grocery store and instinctively pulls in.

She doesn't cook but one of those ready made lasagnas should be easy, right?

_Wrong_.

Two hours later, as she pulls a slightly charred lasagna from Wyatt's oven, she's reminded why cooking will never be her strong suit.

She lets out an irritated growl and drops the pan on the stove top just as Wyatt's door opens and closes.

"That's not a good sound to come home to," he says from the next room, barely hidden amusement lacing his tone.

She doesn't respond as his footsteps come closer. She merely sighs and turns to face him expectantly.

His eyebrows rise as he takes in the barely edible pan of food behind her and then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Aw, babydoll, you cooked."

The scoff and eyeroll that escape her are instinctual. "Shut up. I tried, okay?"

He runs a hand across his chin as he steps closer to examine the lasagna with a muffled laugh. "It's not so bad, Luce. We'll just avoid the edges."

"Or we could toss it and order take out," she suggests sardonically.

"No way," he insists as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest. "We're eating it just so you can see it's not as hopeless as you think it is."

She shakes her head at him but can't stop the grin at his words of encouragement. "You're a brave man, Wyatt Logan. You sure you want to accept that mission?"

"No mission's too risky when it's for you, Professor," he tells her as his warm stare searches her face. "How was your day?"

"Good, boring. Packed a bunch of boxes, called around to some realtors." Or at least that had been her plan.

He looks surprised and, if she's not mistaken, a little hurt. "You worked on your mom's house today?"

"Yeah, that was most of my to-do list," she answers with an uncertain expression. "I'm sorry, did I not mention that?"

"No, you didn't mention that. Are you...are you okay? It wasn't overwhelming for you or anything?" He asks worriedly.

"Nope," she says with all the false brightness she can muster. "Not overwhelming at all. I'm good, really. No big deal. It's all fi—"

"Fine?" He interrupts, his features full of boredom. "Is that what you were going to say? _Fine_?"

"Are you...are you _mad_?" She asks with a furrowed brow. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you I was going to the house. It wasn't intentional." It honestly wasn't. Shutting him out after the fact is, but not telling him about the house before wasn't. "I thought it was obvious given how little is actually going on in my life right now."

"No," he answers earnestly. "I'm not mad. I just...that seems like a lot to take on all by yourself. Especially given that we just got out of the Bunker a couple of days ago. I know we've had some happy moments together since then but not even that is enough to forget the fact that we're fresh off some hard hitting losses. Are you sure you don't want some help?"

A voice in the back of her head is telling her to listen to him. It's saying he's faced war more than she has and he knows what he's talking about. It wants her to lean on him. It's telling her she doesn't have to do this alone. But that voice sounds a little too much like Amy and she can't bear to acknowledge it. _Not yet._

"If I need any help you'll be the first person I ask, Wyatt," she lies. "But right now it truly is no big deal. I spent the day tossing out old nail polish and nearly empty shampoo bottles. Hardly the stuff my childhood memories are made of."

It's not exactly a lie but it isn't the truth either. She hates herself a little more for it.

"If you say so," he replies with a wan smile.

"I say so," she tells him. "Now, I believe we have an overcooked lasagna to eat. Do you want dark cheese or light cheese?"

He laughs loudly and narrows a teasing glare on her. "You're not scaring me, Preston. I said I'm eating it and I'm eating it."

"Not one to give up a fight that easily, huh?" She asks as genuine merriment returns to her heart. He always does this to her. Her day can be total shit and he'll find a way to turn it around. God, she loves him.

"Never," he answers with a pointed stare. She gets the distinct impression that he's no longer talking about the lasagna. "I never give up a fight when it matters."

Does he know? Does he know she's lying to him? Can he see through her, straight to her pain? She didn't think so, but now she's not so sure.

* * *

_December 28th, 2018_

She decides not to go to the house today. Her heart is telling her she's not up to it and, for once, she decides not to fight it.

Wyatt has to spend the day at the office. He's got a bit of paperwork to fill out and then he has to get his Homeland Security badge and I.D. He wakes her up for a goodbye kiss and then leaves her to her own devices.

It shocks her how much she misses him.

She's never missed any significant other as much as she misses him. What is _that_ about? It's as if she has an insatiable need for him. That's new and _terrifying_. But she won't deny it. They once talked about being each other's lightning. Before him she'd never felt that with anyone. She _knew_ she'd never feel it with anyone else ever again. He was _it_.

They were John and Abigail Adams. Sometimes on each other's nerves or separated by circumstances beyond their control but _always_ a team.

Even if half the team is possibly keeping a few secrets, she thinks as shame creeps in to her conscience.

She spends the day finishing up buying the things Wyatt needs for his apartment. It keeps her busy and keeps the guilt at bay. She decides she needs to make up for her disastrous attempt at dinner the night before. She stops by the grocery store for something she can't possibly mess up.

Spaghetti.

She used to make it for herself and Amy in high school all the time on the nights her mother worked late. Surely, she can do it again. She buys a baguette in addition to spaghetti supplies for garlic bread and splurges on a bottle of wine and a few candles to set the mood.

She's already started the spaghetti and put the garlic bread in the oven when he calls to check in.

"Spaghetti?" He asks when she brings up dinner. "Are you sure you're up for that after last night?"

She rolls her eyes. "I've made spaghetti a million times. It'll be fine. I mean, it's all store bought so it won't be gourmet but it'll be edible. No more light cheese or dark cheese."

He chuckles. "I'll take your word for it. Did you go to the house today?"

"No," she replies. "I decided to go get the stuff you still need for the apartment instead. How's your first day in the office going?"

"Boring as hell. All I've been doing is paperwork upon paperwork. Plus, I think I miss you more than I should. Or at least more than what's healthy," he admits.

She blushes and chuckles as affection bubbles up and swallows her guilt. "I'm so glad you admitted that first. Are we in a codependent relationship or just in love?"

"Just in love, I think," he answers. "Though I've never quite felt for anyone what I feel for you so it's a bit hard to tell."

"Oh, God, is that ever relatable," she confesses. She's not sure where this honesty came from but it feels amazing. "Don't let that paperwork go to late. I'm a bit impatient."

He laughs softly. "You and me both. I hated leaving you in bed this morning."

She let's out a contented sigh and sits down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "Waking up alone a few hours later wasn't any fun for me either. You don't have to go in tomorrow, do you?"

"No, after today, I don't have to be back in the office until January second."

"Good, we have a few more days to sleep in together then. Definitely looking forward to that," she tells him.

"Oh, trust me. I look forward to holding you close in bed soon."

His voice caught on the second sentence and went from soft to gravelly in the blink of an eye. The deeper tone and the implications of the words sent warmth shooting through her veins and ultimately pooling low in her belly. She had to take a quiet moment to breath through the sudden wave of passion. One sentence and he had her ready to jump his bones.

"How the _hell_ do you do that to me?" She asks in disbelief.

He doesn't even pretend to be confused about what she means. "I'd like to ask you the same question, ma'am."

She fans her flushed face but she knows it won't help. "I bought wine and candles."

She can practically hear his smirk in his reply. "One step ahead of me as always, I see."

She bites her bottom lip and leans into the hunger she knows he feels. "And who knows, I might even be in one of your shirts by the time you get here."

He sucks in a breath as if she's just caused him pain. She knows it's actually the opposite. "I should be home in about an hour."

"I'll be here," she tells him. "Waiting."

"I should go and see if I can get this paperwork wrapped up any earlier."

She laughs and then stops when a burning smell suddenly wafts is way to her. It's not the spaghetti. The water wasn't even boiling yet. The only other thing she'd started was—

"Shit! The garlic bread!" She holds the phone to her ear and she races to the oven and pulls out the bread. Instead of lightly toasted, it's blackened through and through.

Wyatt laughs as he forms his next question. "What's the verdict?"

"Dead and burnt," she answers with a frustrated huff.

"I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck."

His words are said with warmth and affection and intended to make her laugh. They hit their mark. A loud chortling laugh escapes her as she places the baking sheet with the burnt bread on the stove.

"Deal," she replies, laughingly.

"I'll let you go so you don't somehow overcook the noodles."

"Shut up, you jerk."

"Love you."

Heat returns to her cheeks as it does every time he says those words. "Love you too. Get out of there soon."

"Is that an order?" He asks in a cheeky tone.

"You bet your ass it is."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am. See you in an hour."

They disconnect and the happiness he caused in her follows her around. She waits until the rest of dinner is finished to make sure there are no other mistakes and then heads toward Wyatt's bedroom to change. She knows exactly which of his shirts she wants to steal next.

* * *

_December 29th, 2018_

As previously discussed, they sleep in.

She wakes up with Wyatt's arms wrapped around her from behind and no intention to move for the rest of the day. Leaving his side at all is as unappealing to her as ever having spaghetti-os outside of the Bunker again. If she never sees another family sized can of spaghetti-os in her life she will die extremely happy.

A large rough hand suddenly begins to move across her stomach and then down toward her most sensitive spot. A sure sign Wyatt is awake as well. She gasps and writhes against him as his fingers brush against the inside of her thigh.

She feels his lips against the shell of her ear, but he doesn't greet her right away. He takes in a long whiff of her hair first, and then speaks in a low rumble that instantly stokes warmth deep within her.

"We should wake up like this every morning."

She bites back a wanton whimper as his hand on her thigh moves toward her center. "_Oh. _Hell yes, we should."

He chuckles with his lips still next to her ear and then swirls his fingers around the nerve center between her legs. Her head falls back onto his while he leaves a trail of hot open mouthed down the curve of her neck.

"Oh, god. _Wyatt_."

She feels his smirk against her skin which does nothing to slow the erratic beating of her heart. Her toes curl and her muscles tense as he changes the rhythm from a swirl to a firm up and down swipe, barely dipping the tips of his two fingers inside of her.

She instinctively begins to move in response to his hand while reaching an arm up and behind her to coil around him. _Jesus Christ, _he's good at this.

His other hand reaches around her finds her breast, massaging and kneading. But then all movement between her legs stops just as the pressure begins to build.

The wanton whimper she held back earlier finally escapes.

"Don't worry, Professor, I'm not done yet," Wyatt assures her with a kiss to her neck.

The hand that had practically been inside of her just a minute ago grips the underside of her knee. He lifts her leg over his and adjusts himself lower than her until she feels the hard tip of him prodding her entrance. She inhales sharply as soon as she realizes what he's up to. _Oh, God_. She already loves where this is going.

He eases inside of her with a guttural moan. "Fuck, _Luce_, you're so damn perfect."

"No," she corrects him. "_We're_ perfect. We just…" Her sentence trails off as he adjusts their position and moves inside of her a fraction of an inch. She cries out at the pleasure of it before finishing her thought. "We just _fit_, Wyatt. We fit."

He doesn't say anything. In reply, he grips her leg tighter and _thrusts_ — hard and deep. She was already halfway to exploding thanks to his magnificent hands so it doesn't take many more of _those_ for her to reach the highest of highs.

Judging by the way his rhythm falters and the strength of his heartbeat against her back, he's close too. He nips at her shoulder and then begins a rapid succession of thrusts that push her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. One of those thrusts hits her _just so_ and suddenly she's falling—

Down, down, _down._

Into a sea of pleasure that surrounds her the way only Wyatt can. He follows her a couple thrusts later with her muscles fluttering around him. In the afterglow, he presses sweet delicate kisses to her shoulders and neck. When she manages to make it back down to earth and catch her breath, she turns her head to capture his mouth with hers.

Her kiss is insistent and eager.

Every time with Wyatt gets better and better. She's not sure if it's her growing feelings for him or if they truly are getting better with practice. Either way is fine with her. He's the best she's ever had, regardless.

"Definitely the best way to wake up," she tells him as they separate and she turns in his embrace. "I love you."

His pupils are blown with want and need allowing her to see indigo eyes boring into her through the early morning sunlight.

He presses his forehead to hers and gathers her closer. "I love you, too."

"Let's not leave this bed today unless it's for coffee or food," she proposes. "Deal?"

He chuckles softly and brings one hand up to adoringly caress her face. "Deal. I wouldn't want it any other way. I mean, naked Lucy Preston in my bed all day long? No way in hell am I passing that up."

No way in hell would she _let him_ pass that up. In a few days, their chances to lounge around together decrease significantly. She wants to enjoy it—_enjoy him—_while she still can.

* * *

_December 30th, 2018_

She comes back from taking out the trash to the sound of the shower running. Cracking open the bathroom door, she finds a familiar silhouette behind the curtain. She bites her bottom lip, through a troublemaking grin, and quietly undresses.

Surely, he won't mind if she joins him.

She pulls back the curtain and steps into the spray of warm water. His head swivels in her direction in surprise.

"Listen, I know we've been spending all of our time together lately, but I think separate showers are okay," he says with a knowing gleam in his eye. "Or did you just miss me that much during your trek to the trash chute at the end of the hall?"

"Don't flatter yourself, pretty boy. I'm only here to conserve water. I'm looking out for the planet, this has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with me, huh?" He asks as he crowds her into the corner of the shower. He has one hand resting on the tile on each side of her as he leans in close to her lips.

Her eyes immediately follow the droplets of water as they fall down his face toward the slight parting of his very enticing lips. "N-not a thing to do with you. No."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a bad liar?" He questions her with a smirk.

"Hey, we survived multiple historical events because of my lying. Don't pretend we didn't," she tells him with a teasing narrowed gaze. "I mean, exactly how many times did I save your life again? Should we count?"

She lifts a hand to tick off the instances on her fingers but he shuts her down by wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the tub floor. She lets out a startled screeching laugh and balances herself by wrapping her arms and legs around him.

"Give a girl a little warning next time," she halfheartedly admonishes.

He carries her toward the shower spray with a shake of his head. "You know, I don't think I will. Are we actually going to shower during this shower or should we just forget that idea all together?"

"I see no reason why we can't get a little dirty _and_ clean ourselves all at once," Lucy tells him with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows. "I'm willing to try if you are."

His mischievous smirk slides into something more serious as that last sentence leaves her lips. The mood shifts from playful to pensive on a dime and she wonders if she's said something wrong. Her brow furrows and her hands tenderly card through his we hair.

"Wyatt?" She asks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he assures her. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just...I'm wondering something."

She raises her eyebrows at him expectantly. "Care to share with the class, Mr. Logan?"

"Well, there's something else I'd be willing to try if you are," he says, which clues her in on what set them down this path in the first place.

"I'm listening," she prods. Whatever this is, it's serious. He looks hesitant and nervous.

"Okay, just—before I ask this just know there's no pressure. You can do whatever you feel is right for you but I've been thinking about it all week and I'll regret it if I don't ask." His disclaimer is reassuring even if she still doesn't know where this is going.

"Understood," she replies with a nod. She gives him an encouraging squeeze around the waist and shoulders, seeing as he's still holding her up in the shower.

"Do you have any thoughts on where you'll live after you sell your mom's house?" He asks in a rush. She gets the distinct impression he thinks he might chicken out if he doesn't ask _now_.

She's a bit taken aback by his question so it takes her a moment to gather her wits. "Um, no. Not really." Honestly, she's not even figured out how to _deal_ with her mother's house at all. Let alone thought about what happens once she's done with it. "I suppose I was planning on looking for a place," she says with a weak shrug.

"And you could do that. Find your own place. I mean I would understand wanting your own space especially after...well, after everything that happened at the Bunker. But what if…" his sentence trails off and finally the pieces start to fit together.

His confidence falters as if he's not sure he should ask, but she finds herself internally cheering him on. If she's honest, she's not really thought about living anywhere else but with Wyatt. Though, she never would have assumed she could move into his space or plucked up the courage to invite herself in, she's realizing that's precisely what she wants to do.

"What if?" She asks as she cups the side of his face and lets her thumb trace a line across his cheek.

"What if you didn't?" He finally asks. "What if you just..._stayed_?"

She feels her wide toothy smile before she registers what's happening. His expression reflects her and the light in his eyes is nearly blinding.

"Is that you're way of asking me to move in with you?" She teases.

"Only if you want to," he clarifies. "No pressure, but I...I'd really like it if we could make this arrangement permanent."

His cheeks are tinted pink with nerves and she can't help but laugh at him just a little. "You're adorable when you're anxious."

He huffs and shakes his head at her with a dry chuckle. "Gimme a break okay? I've never asked a woman to move in with me before. It's not as easy as it seems."

That admission shouldn't surprise her, but it does. She pushes lightly at his shoulders as an indicator he can put her down. Once her feet hit the tub floor again she tilts her head at him with a curious expression.

"You mean you never asked Jessica to—"

"No. Jess and I went from high school graduation to a wedding chapel. There wasn't exactly a whole lot of...forethought in that relationship. And then after Jessica I just kind of assumed I'd...lost my chance, I guess. Never really wanted to try with anyone until you," he confesses with a sheepish grin. "I'm not really a guy with a whole lot of experience at this dating thing. Just so you know."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better you really didn't miss out on much," she tells him with a dry grin. She debates keeping this next part out herself but...well he just opened up to her and she feels like she should repay him in kind. "...and I've also never done the cohabitating thing. Unless you count that one night I slept on Noah's couch which I definitely _do not_."

"If it's all the same to you I'd rather just not count _Noah_ for anything," Wyatt says with a roll of his eyes.

Lucy laughs and shakes her head at him. "You _really_ didn't like him, huh?"

"No, I did not," he answers seriously. "But I find it hard to believe that _you_ never lived with anyone before that."

She sighed and grabbed the shampoo. If they were going to talk then they were going to actually shower. No use wasting the water. She rubbed the shampoo into her hair as the conversation continued.

"There was only one guy before you that ever came close to being worth it and that never went passed a hypothetical conversation. If he was in a particularly good mood he would spin tales about 'someday' which I bought hook, line, and sinker," she admits as she rinses her hair, making sure to avoid his gaze all the while. Years later and she's still embarassed by how easily Jonas sucked her in. What a little fool she was. "He never actually intended for that 'someday' to happen. I see that now."

"So, wait, this jackass used the idea of living together to—what?—keep you hanging on?" Wyatt asks as he reaches around her for the conditioner and places the bottle in her hand.

"There was a little more to it than that, but yes," Lucy replies with closed lids. "I eventually broke it off but by then it was a little too late. By the time I figured it out, he'd been promoted above me at Stanford." She pauses as she's applying conditioner and smirks darkly at Wyatt. "Let's just say I learned a very valuable lesson about the ramifications of dating your coworkers...which I promptly ignored by falling in love with you."

As she expected, Wyatt reads exactly what she means in her expression. She opens her eyes as she feels Wyatt's hands massaging conditioner into her scalp to find him staring at her with an offended expression.

"Hold on," he says.

She does her best to pay attention but his hands on her scalp feel far too wonderful. If he's not careful she's going to fall asleep in his arms in the middle of the shower.

"Are you—are you implying that this dick who led you on for so long is the _same dick_ who denied you tenure? Am I understanding that correctly?"

She doesn't bother affirming his question verbally. He already knows he's right. So, she lets out a deep sigh and nods slowly.

"Son of a bitch, I hate this douchebag," Wyatt swears as his hands continue to gently massage her scalp. "You didn't deserve that. I mean what kind of no-balled twerp do you have to be to deny a woman tenure because she dumped your sorry ass?"

His tirade brings happy tears to her eyes and causes a joyful laugh to bubble up from her chest. He really is an unbelievable man. Not only is he standing in this shower sympathizing with her and encouraging her but he's simultaneously taking care of her as well. He didn't need to hand her the conditioner or help her apply it, but he did anyway. Because he cares about _her_. He loves _her_. Not because it might be to his advantage or because she's a sheep he can manipulate. No, he loves her for no other reason than he just..._does_. _He just does._

Yes, he's made some mistakes but every mistake he's made comes from trying to do the right and honorable thing. If doing what's right even when it hurts is his main flaw, how much of a flaw can that really be?

There are worse things, as illustrated by her pathetic dating history.

"You truly are my favorite person, Wyatt Logan," Lucy tells him as she dips her head back into the water to rinse it out. She pulls Wyatt's hands into the water with her and rinses the conditioner from them before pressing a kiss to each palm. She deliberately meets his eyes before continuing. He needs to know how badly she wants this — _wants him_. "And I would love nothing more than to move in with you."

His offense on her behalf melts into elation as he crushes her against him with a hopeful smile. "You mean it? If you're not ready for it, that's okay, Luce. You don't have to—"

"I mean it," she declares, cutting off his attempt at giving her an easy out. "I want to live here with you. I want to make this place—No, not this place. _You._ I want to make _you_ my home."

"I want that to," he agrees. "I want all of what you just said. Right here, right now."

She beams at him and repeats her words from earlier. "I'm willing to try if you are."

"Oh, I'm willing to try, alright. I'm willing to try a lot of things _with you_." He lifts her again, this time with his hands cupping her ass, and presses her into the tile wall. "This is gonna be fun, Professor. I can feel it."

"Oh, I can feel it too," she says with a meaningful grin as she grinds herself against him. "And it feels pretty _solid_ to me."

He half laughs and half groans in pleasure as he nudges her nose with his. "_Christ_, I love you. You're a little mean but damn if it doesn't turn me on."

She laughs against his mouth as his lips finally meet hers.

By the time they finish, she has no doubt about how turned on she makes him, but she does doubt whether or not their shared shower conserved any water.

So much for saving the planet.

She should feel guilty, but she doesn't.

Not even a little bit.

* * *

_New Years Eve, 2018_

"Settling back in?" Harper asks. "God, does that mean apartment hunting? I hate apartment hunting."

"No," Lucy says as she catches Wyatt's eye across the room. "I'm pretty set with living arrangements, actually."

Jiya gives Lucy a startled but pleased glance that Harper completely misses. Lucy smirks and nods at her friend. Jiya, in turn, clinks her wine glass against Lucy's in congratulations.

"About damn time," Jiya whispers.

Across the room, Rob calls Harper over to him.

"Oh, that's my cue," she says with a bright smile. "It was good to see you again, Professor Preston. I hope you'll be back at Stanford soon!"

"You'll be the first to know when or if I decide to come back," Lucy assures the younger woman. "I promise."

Once Harper's out of ear shot Jiya winks at Lucy. "Glad to hear Wyatt finally locked you down. Took him long enough."

"To be fair, for part of that time his wife came back from the dead."

"Still counts. He should have kicked her to the curb _immediately_," Jiya tells her with an eye roll. "It was obvious to everyone that she would never hold a candle to you. Well, everyone but the two of you, I guess."

"Yeah, _well_, we're not wasting anymore time. I can promise you that," Lucy assures her.

Harper reaches the other side of the room and is briefly introduced to Wyatt before he excuses himself and makes his way to Lucy. Is it just her imagination or is he walking in slow motion? God, he's too attractive for his own good. She never told him about the rolled up sleeves but did he figure it out? Is this a coincidence?

Jiya snorts gracelessly and hands Lucy a cocktail napkin. "You're drooling. You may want to do something about that."

Lucy panics for a moment before realizing Jiya is joking. "Is this payback for messing with Rufus so much when the two of you first started dating?"

The smirk on Jiya's face says it all. "Maybe."

"Jiya," Wyatt greets as he joins them. "Happy New Year."

"Thank you," she replies. "I would wish you the same but we all know your New Year celebration will be _plenty_ happy."

Lucy blushes and covers her face with her free hand. "I hate you right now. I absolutely hate you."

Jiya shakes her head with a smirk. "You don't. You _really_ don't. But I tell you what, I'll show you both some mercy and go track down my own boyfriend. Word of advice?" She says as she turns to Wyatt. "Find a room before your midnight kiss. She may not be able to control herself. She's been obsessively staring at you all night."

"Nice," Lucy says sarcastically. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime!" She calls over her shoulder. "You two kids have fun now, you hear?"

"Oh, I think we will," Wyatt replies. "Especially if Lucy might jump me at any given moment. That's the kind of fun I really like to have."

"Can you not encourage her, please?" Lucy asks as she barely holds back a laugh. "She's a brat."

"But is she right?" Wyatt asks as one of his hands settles on her waist. He quirks a suggestive brow with a grin. "Do I need to find us somewhere a little more private for our midnight kiss?"

"You tell me, you're the one who had a hand up my skirt on the drive over here," Lucy asks with a quirked brow of her own.

"Trust me, I have plenty planned for later, but I think you're safe for now," he retorts.

"Later, huh?" Lucy asks as she leans against him with one arm around his shoulders. She adjusts their positions so she can whisper seductively into his ear. "I'm curious. Where are we gonna go?"

His other hand comes to rest on the small of her back and idly rubs in a circle. His eyes shift to indigo as he draws her closer. Everything around them goes hazy until all she sees is him. She's certain no one will ever truly understand how she feels about him or how deeply she loves him. It'll remain a secret only they share, and that's fine. That's exactly how it should be.

"_Home_, Lucy. Once this party is over, I'm taking you home _with me_," he replies in his own whisper.

A thrill skates up her spine at the combination of those words and the determined look in his eyes. She can only imagine what awaits them back at his—_correction_: their—place. She's tempted to ditch the midnight countdown altogether and rush him out the door.

She hums her eager agreement with his plan and kisses his cheek before moving her lips to the shell of his ear. One hand dips into his back pocket and wraps around the car keys, possibly giving him a light squeeze along the way, as she murmurs softly.

"_I'll drive."_

* * *

**A/N: **Prompts used:

32 - "I look forward to holding you close in bed soon."

14 - "I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck."


End file.
